


Cut Here

by Lillington_x



Category: GTA V, Grand Theft Auto Series (Video Games), Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Post-ending C, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2021-03-24
Packaged: 2021-04-20 16:55:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 46,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21990991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillington_x/pseuds/Lillington_x
Summary: Trevor’s might have just met his match, a woman he just can't shake. And doesn’t ever plan to.Note: this isn't a normal story. It's a series of one shots cut from events that lead up to the first chapter. (Bc Trevor Philips deserves fluff and happy endings.)
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Trevor Philips/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 138





	1. Chapter 1

It was nearing seven at night and all she wanted to do was go home so she could peel off her work clothes and stand in a scalding shower. Instead, she was marching across the sand-covered parking lot belonging to the Sandy Shores Police Department. Coyotes yipped from just across the street. The sky was a sherbet orange with a kiss of indigo night inching across the horizon as the sun sank lower behind the mountains. The song from the crickets hiding somewhere among the bushes by the side of the old building was loud and relentless. Pulling the glass door open, a gust of cool air swept the evening’s humidity off of her tense shoulders.

“Thank God for air conditioning,” she muttered as she pushed through a second set of glass doors. Most of the lights in the building were dim. The standard business hours were done for the day, which meant the staff was bare-boned for the night. All she knew was she better had receive quick service. She hated this place. She breezed through the quiet metal detector and approached the front desk where a bored looking police officer was relaxing with his feet kicked up in another chair beside him.

“How can I help you?” he greeted.

“I’m here to post bail.”

“For?”

“Trevor Philips,” she claimed as she plopped her bright pink purse onto the counter and started digging through the inside pockets.

“Yeah right. And the mayor is gonna make meth legal. Lady, you don’t wanna let that guy out.”

She paused, smiling sweetly and cocking her head to one side as she eyed the unfamiliar uniformed man in front of her. “I don’t? Well why not?”

The police officer laughed and finally tucked away the cell phone he had been fiddling with in his thin hands. He stood and approached the counter separating the two of them. As he looked over at the woman, his blue eyes ran the length of her frame and his mouth popped open just a bit. She clenched her jaw to keep from insulting the stringy male. She glared at the shining name tag pinned to his chest. Ross. She would have to remember him if this persisted.

“He’s a mad man. County loon, I hear. I’m sure you’ve heard the stories too. Whoever put you up to this dare is sick. You don’t want anything to do with him. Trust me,” he explained, eyes feigning concern toward the woman in front of him.

“Trust you?” she echoed, still trying her best to hide her discontent. “I don’t even know you.”

“I’m Officer Ross. I’m new to the Sandy Shores Police Department. I transferred just a few days ago,” he explained. He extended a hand while flashing a warm, broad smile. 

“Now that explains why you’re running your mouth so much instead of doing your work,” she started up, ignoring his handshake to resume searching her purse. “I’m Trevor’s wife, Effie Philips." 

The police officer’s flirty, confident face fell as she spoke with growing agitation. Finally, she withdrew a rolled up chunk of money that she then promptly tapped against the scratched up counter top. The officer stared at the sizable diamond ring on her finger. 

“I said, I’m here for Trevor Philips,” she reiterated.

“H-He was drunk and disorderly in public. It’s almost a thousand-“

“You think I don’t know the charges? I saw the posting. It’s all there,” she pushed the money toward him. “You should get to drawing up some paperwork, and quick, before you have not one, but two angry Philips’s on your hands.”

He picked up the bail money then hurried over to the computer on the corner of the desk and started typing away. Another police officer pushed out of a room and into the lobby where the two were exchanging words. She sent him a smile and a small wave of her fingers.

“Evening Officer Milton,” she politely greeted.

“Effie? Hey. I didn’t realize Trevor was here,” he said with a sigh. She shrugged to herself, dark curls atop her head bouncing as she moved to lean leisurely against the counter. Officer Ross glanced over at the woman talking to his coworker but didn’t say a word.

“Yeah. I was at work when it happened. Just got off and figured I would stop by here to swipe him up before I went home. What’s the deal with junior over there? Told him who I wanted to bail out and he gave me a hard time,” she explained. Officer Milton’s lips curled downward together to form a hard line.

“R-Ross doesn’t know all the locals yet. Cut him some slack, please,” he suggested. “I’ll help him to get Trevor out-processed. Why don’t you go take a load off those feet of yours?”

She flashed a small smile and claimed one of the benches along the wall a few feet opposite from where Officer Ross was nervously working. She crossed her legs and her arms then let out a deep breath. Part of her was agitated she was here in the first place, but she _had_ to get Trevor. _Through thick and thin; for better or worse_, she thought to herself. She had so badly wanted to drive past the county police station and go home, leaving him in a dingy cell to think about what he had done. On the other hand, she knew he wouldn’t think about or learn a thing in here. He would have only been upset that she had left him there and it would start an argument whenever he got home. She wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway. She had gotten used to falling asleep beside her husband’s body heat or while listening to him grovel orders into his cell phone from the other room.

Sometimes, she wondered if he got himself into trouble on purpose. On account of everyone North of the county line being terrified of his wrath, he knew he was nearly untouchable and bail money was hardly a problem. Money from his businesses were deposited right into Effie's account. He didn't trust himself to not blow it all in irresponsible chunks while he was on one of his benders, however rare they happened since the two had met. She still felt some type of way about him owning a strip club and the day that he decided to come home hammered with the deed and keys to a car scrapyard further South in the city left him sleeping on the couch by himself for three nights. 

"Mrs. Philips?" came Officer Ross's shaky voice. He was standing behind the counter with the money in his extended grasp. "It's a couple twenties too much."

"Keep it," she said, waving a hand. "Consider it a tip."

"Alright now, Effie. You can't bribe my employees," Officer Milton spoke up as he disappeared down a hallway. When she didn't move, the new police officer placed the money on the counter then reclaimed his seat and busied himself with something on the computer. She could hear the jangle of Officer Milton's key ring from down the hall then the dull scrap of a heavy cell door behind swung open. Effie crossed one leg over the other before doing the same with her arms and putting a scowl on her face. A few moments later, Officer Milton reappeared with Trevor in tow. 

"If you hadn't shown up when you did, you woulda had a mess to clean up. You can't expect me to peacefully share a cell with some fucker who kept lookin' at me funny. You know me better than that, Carl," Trevor yammered on. Officer Milton sighed as he unlocked the handcuffs binding Trevor's wrists together.

"It's Officer Milton to you," he corrected. "And he wasn't looking at you funny. Nick's got a lazy eye from that accident he was in as a kid. You know that."

"Lazy eye, shmazy eye. Keep him away from me," Trevor insisted.

"How about you make it simple and keep yourself out of jail?" she spoke up, finally pushing to her feet. Trevor turned away from the officer and locked in on his wife's disappointed face.

"Baby doll? You didn't have to come all the way down here for me-"

"Now you and I both know that is a lie," she shot back. "Grab your money and come on."

Trevor stood frozen in place as she breezed past him and disappeared outside of the quiet building.

"She sound pissed off to you guys?" he quietly asked, eyes darting back and forth between Officer Milton and Officer Ross.

"Little bit," Officer Milton said with a wince barely visible under his thick mustache. The other nodded in agreement and Trevor chewed his bottom lip, quickly sobering up even more at the thought of frustrating the woman any further. She was sweet as can be, but was a force when she needed to be. She was the only person who could scare the hell out of him and excite him at the same time with just a glance. A car horn beeped twice from outside. He swiped up the extra money she had left on the counter and hurried outside of the building. She switched on the bright headlights right as he stepped outside of the glass doors. He groaned, cupping a hand over his eyes until he rounded the Mesa and popped open the passenger door.

"Thank you, baby doll," he said with a grunt as he climbed into the passenger seat.

"If there's a next time, I'll make sure you spend the whole night in a cell with cock-eyed Nick," she remarked.

"Mm, no you won't," he purred, leaning over the center console to press a kiss against her cheek. "You love me too much."

She turned to look him head on. "That might be true, but someone's gotta teach you a lesson one of these days."

"I can't think of a better teacher than you," he insisted. "We can even find you one of those wooden rulers so you can discipline me..."

She hummed and pressed a quick kiss to his eager lips before playfully shoving his stubble-covered chin away. "You're not off the hook yet, Trev. Now put your seat belt on so we can go home."


	2. Chapter 2

Effie's boyfriend was lounging in the reclined passenger seat of her white Mesa with his ball cap covering his face. She was standing out in the sun, filling up the gas tank of her car as traffic whizzed by on the freeway just a couple of feet behind the pumps. The two of them had just gotten back from an all-night fishing trip out at Catfish View. The getaway had been her idea but Brett made it obvious he agreed to go to temporarily appease her. The big, healthy fish they caught and threw back had been the only rewarding thing she enjoyed.  
  
A rusted, burgundy truck came barreling into the sand-covered lot and pulled up to a gas pump behind them. A broad shouldered and inherently agitated looking man shut off the loud rock music blaring through his speakers and hopped out of the cab of his truck without even opening the door. He leered at her for a few seconds as he loped by then disappeared into the little convenience store. Her boyfriend sat up then stretched with an audible moan.  
  
"Grab me a six-pack of Sprunk soda," he ordered to which she huffed.  
  
"You wanna finish pumping the gas for me then?"   
  
"Just flip the little switch so it will pump by itself until it's full," he urged. She quietly rolled her eyes before pulling the nozzle out of her gas tank and placing it back on its dispenser. The machine spat out a faded receipt that she didn't bother to grab.  
  
"Make sure it's diet!" Brett called through the open window.  
  
"Ridiculous," Effie whispered to herself as she pushed into the storefront. She wasn't sure if it was because she was simply exhausted after being awake all night, but Brett was extra agitating today. The broad shouldered man from the loud truck was thoughtfully stroking his chin as he surveyed the various cigarette boxes behind the tired looking clerk. When she stepped up behind him with a pack of soda, he moved to the side and waved her on in front of him. She placed her goods on the counter and let the clerk do their job.  
  
"That coward in your car allergic to gas?" the brash stranger spoke up.  
  
"I'm sorry?" she tried over her shoulder, brow furrowed.  
  
"That tub of lazy lard that had you standing in this hot sun when _he's_ supposed to be the one pumping gas and making grocery runs... He always like that?"  
  
The man moved to her side so she could finally look at him and she shrugged before she spoke.  
  
"Maybe he is. So what?"  
  
"A lady deserves better than that."  
  
She laughed and took the grocery bag full of soda the cashier offered after she swiped her debit card. She looked the stranger head to toe. Dust-covered, marked up, and scarred to bits, just like most of the people out here.  
  
"And what's better, huh? You?"  
  
"Ya never know."  
  
She scoffed then left the store with her receipt and without another word. She marched across the lot, eyeing his rusty truck as she passed. The tan interior was torn in some places and stained in smears with what could have been old blood or maybe oil.  
  
"The audacity," she muttered, disgusted. She had just gotten her car cleaned the week before.  
  
"What happened?" her boyfriend asked as she opened her door and took the driver's seat.  
  
"Nothing. Here," she handed over the drinks. He peered into the bag and frowned.  
  
"I said the diet Sprunk. Open your ears, Effie."  
  
Just as she snatched up the bag and reached for the door handle, a single muffled gunshot sounded off. The two of them jumped and turned their gazes toward the business. One of the glass doors shattered as a force swung it outward and the stranger who had spoken with her earlier came running outside. There was a handgun in his left hand and a lumpy plastic bag in his right. A few green dollar bills fluttered out of the bag with the dry, desert wind before he tossed it into his truck and clambered in after it. Effie and Brett ducked lower into their seats and watched in awe as the madman sped off, music blaring and hooting and hollering. The tired looking clerk came scurrying out of the store with a phone pressed to his ear.  
  
"I was just robbed! It's the south bound Stop 'N Go on Senora Freeway!" he cried into the phone.  
  
"Come on, babe. We gotta get out of here. You know how I feel about cops," Brett muttered, tugging his cap lower onto his head to hide his face.  
  
"Did you know him? He talked to you!" the clerk yelled. Effie shook her head and quickly started her car.  
  
"He talked to you?" Brett asked, taken back. Effie snapped into drive and hurried out of the lot.  
  
"You know him? What did he say?" Brett continued, blue eyes wide.  
  
"No, I don't know him. He just asked about the soda," she lied. A few dollar bills skittered across the hot surface of the freeway as they took the exit onto Route 68.  
  
"He probably wanted to know why you didn't grab the diet shit like I asked. I'm sure that crazy fuck heard me better than you did," Brett remarked. Effie quietly seethed and focused on the road in front of them. The drive to Paleto Bay would be longer than usual.


	3. Chapter 3

"Can I get another?" Effie pushed her empty glass in the bartender's direction with a huff. The woman behind the counter poured a second serving of brown whiskey in the cup and pushed it back to her customer. She took a sip, pulling her cell phone from the pocket of her jeans. 'No new notifications' briefly lit up the screen. With a roll of her eyes, she slammed the phone onto the top of the bar before returning to her drink.  
  
The metal stool to her right scraped against the floor then someone plopped down. Out of all the empty seats...  
  
"What's got someone as beautiful as you all frowned up?" a man greeted. She turned to the newcomer, prepared to give him an earful of attitude. His wild, piercing gaze screwed her jaw shut. The last time she had seen it, he was sprinting out of a gas station with a gun and stolen cash in his hands.  
  
"Well helloooo there," he greeted with a wicked grin. "What are the odds?"  
  
"What are YOU doing here?" she asked, pure surprise scribbled all over her face. Her heart beat hard in her chest. There was no way he should be here or anywhere other than in handcuffs.  
  
"A man can't enjoy a midday drink?" he scoffed, feigning offense. The bartender slid a Pisswasser his way without a word. He took a deep swig and wiped his mouth with the back of his rough hand. He eyed the various bottles of liquor behind the bartender to keep his eyes from lingering on the woman to his left. The sheer coincidence of them running into each other again made the hair on the back of his neck stand up straight, but he would be damned if he wasn't enjoying being able to ogle her up close this time. Her deep brown eyes rolled as she shook her head for what felt like the hundredth time, sending her curly afro to bob just gently from the movement. Her full lips didn't even pull into a grimace after she slammed back her glass of dark alcohol.  
  
"You aren't exactly subtle. How haven't they caught you yet is beyond me," she muttered.  
  
"No one's looking for me, sweetheart. Where's yer boyfriend?"  
  
"You robbed a convenience store in broad daylight. Of course someone is looking-"  
  
He clambered on top of the stool then stood tall on top of the bar. The bartender stepped back to look at him, arms crossed over her chest. Effie stared up at him, eyes wide. He very audibly cleared his throat and planted his hands on the hips of his tan cargo pants.  
  
"'scuse me!" he declared. The cry-baby country tunes playing from the jukebox in the corner was paused. The patrons littering the wide, humid room turned their attention to the man standing on top of the worn counter top.  
  
"Last week, I robbed a gas station," he proudly announced. "Anyone care to arrest me or call the cops?"  
  
Crickets. Someone sneezed. Another person yawned.  
  
"Trevor, get down from there," a straggly man called from a table covered in playing cards. The men on either side of him nodded in agreement then resumed their game. Waylon Jenning's started up on the jukebox once more. The room filled with the quiet buzz of socialization.  
  
"C'mon, Philips. Get offa the bar," the bartender suggested as she popped the top off another beer and handed it to the madman. Effie peered up at him incredulously until he shot her a wink and reclaimed his seat.  
  
"You still ain't answered my question," he continued the conversation as though nothing had happened.  
  
"What question?" she sighed.  
  
"That boyfriend of yours... Where is he?" he growled. She shrugged a shoulder and extended her empty glass to the bartender who didn't hesitate to fill it for a second time that evening. He raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Alone, at a bar. Stiff drink. Careless shrug. He dumped ya, didn't he?"  
  
"No, I dumped him!" she exclaimed, raising a rigid finger in his face. Her voice wavered and her throat burned. She drew in a deep breath to calm herself before she spoke again, much softer this time. "I broke up with him."  
  
Trevor grit his teeth as he observed the fury smoldering deep in the woman's eyes.  
  
"He was a dick. It's good riddance," she muttered to herself. "He cheated."  
  
"What's his name?"  
  
"What? Why?"  
  
"What's the turd's name?" he reiterated.  
  
"Brett."  
  
"Perfect douche bag name for a douche bag," he sighed. He bucked down the rest of his beer then turned to her with an extended hand.  
  
"Trevor," he properly introduced himself.   
  
"Thanks for the small talk, but I'm not looking for a rebound," she politely declined her suitor.  
  
"I'm flattered you think you're my type, sweet cheeks."  
  
"Your type?" she echoed with a laugh. "As if your crazy ass even has one."  
  
He laughed at her boldness, fueled by alcohol and a fresh dose of hurt feelings.  
  
"Get the lady any drink she wants. Put it all on my tab," he ordered. The bartender nodded as she filled the cup of another patron.  
  
"It's no way in Hell I can let you do that. You don't know me," she huffed, tongue finally starting to tingle behind her teeth as the whiskey went to work. Trevor noticed as she briefly closed her eyes to get a hold of herself. She pulled out her wallet and slapped a few five dollar bills on the counter. He swiped them up and pressed them back into her bedazzled clutch. He quickly eyeballed the identification card tucked into one of the clear pockets. EFFIE. It was all he had time to read before she snatched it back. She withdrew the money again but he pressed the bills back into her palm.  
  
"Don't make me say it twice," he quietly muttered. He closed her fingers around her money then stepped away from the bar. "I gotta go handle some business. You said his name was Brett, right?"  
  
Before she could interject, he marched out of the building. She clapped a hand to her forehead and groaned. The bartender stopped in front of her and rested her elbow on top of the bar with a red-lipped smile.  
  
"Am I cut off yet?" Effie asked with a scowl.  
  
"Nah. I reckon Trevor's just taken a liking to you," she spoke up.  
  
"He's insane and he barely knows me. He was just trying to take advantage of me since I've been drinking."  
  
"Trust me. If he really wanted you now, you wouldn't still be sitting here. I've been working for Mr. Philips for over a year now. When he's set on something - he is SET."  
  
Effie raised an eyebrow. "You work for him? Where? Here?"  
  
"Yep. He bought the place out of foreclosure last year. The Hen House has been booming since. You want another drink?"  
  
Effie ran her hands over her hot face. What kind of person could own an entire business but still rob stores?  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

The test results were negative. She didn’t have any symptoms but it was better to be safe than sorry. Once the rage and the hangover subsided, she could think rationally and decided to take herself to a doctor’s office. It had been a painstakingly slow forty-eight hour wait for the test results to return from the lab. In those forty-eight hours, she cried. She drank. She slept. She grew angry. She let go. It was for the better. And now, as she pushed out of the clinic, that eyesore of a truck was parked across the street in an almost taunting manner. At another gas station. In broad daylight. And the lunatic driver was nowhere to be seen.

She scurried across the street toward the burgundy rust bucket sitting crooked at the gas pumps. Her heart was in her throat. Her ears pricked at the slightest noise, anticipating another gunshot. She just needed a peek, just to see if he was or wasn’t...

Right as she approached the storefront, the bell over the glass door chimed as he pushed his way outside. Mindlessly, he sidestepped the woman to hold the door open for what he assumed was just another customer before he recognized her.

“You again?” He spoke up with a rumble, a bit of the cherry red slushee spilling from his lips and staining his gray t-shirt. He pulled the tinted aviators down to the tip of his sunburnt nose and looked her head to toe over the wire rim.

“What’re you doing here?” she breathlessly asked. He let go of the door to the store and pointed over his shoulder to his truck.

“She needs gas to keep goin’...” he took another sip of the frozen treat in the fluorescent cup he was holding. “I need sustenance to keep goin’. Is there a new law against me stopping by gas stations?”

Her cheeks burned pink and she huffed, turning away from the man to head back across the street.

“Hold on!” he called after her. “You thought I was-“

“Forget it,” she snapped with a dismissive wave of her hand. He jogged across the pavement to catch up to her frustrated strides as she stopped on the curb to let traffic pass.

“If I were, you know, committing another robbery... What were you gonna do? Try and stop it?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she snapped. “I just... I said, forget it.”

“Well where’re you headed? Do you need a ride?” he asked.

“Nah, I’m parked just across the street.”

He stuffed the sunglasses into the collar of his shirt and squinted at the sign on the side of the building she was eager to return to. “What’re you doing at the clinic? The state’s record-breaking pollution levels gettin’ to ya?”

What exactly did she think she was going to do if he had been sticking up the store? She didn’t respond to him, her jaw clenching and unclenching as she continued waiting for traffic. Why was everyone in this sleepy bay of a town suddenly on the road?

“Alright, touchy subject. I can take a hint,” he said, raising his hands. She rolled her eyes and turned to him.

“That douche bag you saw in my passenger seat the day that you...well, you know? I broke up with him,” she explained.

“Yeah, we talked about that the other day,” he added.

“To be frank, the last few days have been a whiskey-fueled blur.”

“What’s that gotta do with the clinic?” he grunted, curiosity growing.

“Well that douche bag revealed how he had been hooking up with other women for weeks now. So I thought the smartest thing to do would be to get tested, y’know? Make sure he didn’t pass anything along,” she quickly let out with a frown. His mouth hung open a little and she could see his tongue quietly moving behind his teeth as his dark eyes narrowed in thought.

“You said it was Brett, right?” he asked before he took another sip.

“Why? Are you gonna go look him up and give him a hard time?” she joked.

“I might,” he answered. There wasn’t a hint of humor in his face. She raised an eyebrow.

“Well I’m not giving up his last name. Then I might actually feel bad if something does happen to him.”

“I don’t need his last name. I have my ways,” he cracked a grin and winked at her. She squinted at the peculiar man cradling the frozen drink. Why did he want to help her?

“I’m Effie, by the way,” she introduced herself, extending a hand. “And don’t think I owe you a thing if you kick his ass for me. I’m a lady.”

“You sure are,” he muttered before he took her soft hand in his calloused grasp and felt a bit of embarrassment flood his frame. “Trevor Philips, and I kick ass for fun. Trust me.”

“You seem to do a lot of things just for fun.”

“Yeah? Like what?” he toyed.

“Like rob places despite owning an entire business.”

“I don’t own an entire business. I own several entire businesses,” he corrected. “That day, I was just bored.”

“Bored?” she echoed, making a face. “Then read a book or play a board game.”

“No offense, Effie, but the life I’ve lived? Books and board games would put me to sleep.”

“What kind of life have you lived?”

“Maybe I’ll tell you the next time we bump into each other. It seems to be an inevitable trend at this point, eh? I gotta pump my gas. I think now is your chance.” He nodded towards the street where traffic had finally been caught by a few red lights.

“I’ll be seeing ya,” he said over his shoulder as he loped back to his vehicle.


	5. Chapter 5

“Do you want pizza or oriental?”

“Or we could actually cook something from scratch?”

“Then I will decide between pizza or oriental and YOU can cook whatever it is that you want. Alright?”

“Stop eating your feelings, Effie. In another week or so, you’ll complain about how much weight you’ve gained,” Rose claimed as she rummaged through their refrigerator. She pulled out an empty pizza box and rolled her eyes as she tossed it into the trash can.

“You are hands down one of the pickiest but messiest roommates in the history of roommates,” Rose added.

“And what about it?” Effie shot back. She plopped down across one of their living room sofas and flipped through the menu to a Thai spot a ways down the expressway.

“You don’t have to take offense to everything I say,” Rose quipped, leaning over the sofa to kiss her roommate’s forehead. Effie dramatically wiped the kind gesture off her skin with a loud retch.

“But seriously, what do you want to eat? I’ll cook whatever if we have it,” Rose suggested. Effie tossed the menu onto the coffee table and scratched her head.

“Surprise me, but none of that tofu mess you served up last time.”

Rose laughed from somewhere in the kitchen and cabinets squeaked as they were opened then closed. She stepped into the living room with a lit candle stuffed into one of those individually wrapped, super sweet cupcakes one could buy from any corner store for fifty cents.

“What’s this?” Effie asked. Rose cupped a hand around the flame as she crossed the room so it wouldn’t go out.

“Today marks one month of you taking your sobriety seriously and not having a drop of alcohol. I wanted to do something for you. You know, to remind you that you’re not all alone,” she explained. “Brett was-“

“Don’t,” Effie briefly closed her eyes as she spoke. “I’m over him. He had nothing to do with it. I drank because I wanted to drink, but that doesn’t matter now.”

She wasn’t completely lying but she wasn’t completely telling the truth either. Despite being an asshole, Brett had been a lot of firsts for her. First relationship to last over a year. First person to ever cheat on her. She knew what had happened was for the better but that didn’t make it hurt any less, and alcohol had helped numb that dull ache in her chest. Now, a month later, the ache was gone and replaced with curiosity. She hadn’t seen or heard from Trevor in weeks. She told herself it wasn’t important. She had had no idea the man even existed before that day at the Stop N Go. It was just how honest he had seemed when he asked for her ex-boyfriend’s name then said he had business to take care of... She was sure he meant Brett when he said it, but with each passing day, she realized how ridiculous that was to assume. They barely knew each other. He didn’t owe her anything and an assault and battery charge was different than burglary.

“You wanna blow out the candle before wax gets everywhere?”

Rose’s voice pulled Effie from her thoughts. She blinked a few times then blew, extinguishing the little fire atop the wax stick. Rose plucked out the candle and offered over the snack cake. As Effie took a bite, there came knocking at their front door.

“You ordered food that fast?” Rose asked. Effie shook her head and peered over the top of the velvet sofa as Rose unlocked the door. It swung inward and Brett was shoved inside. Rose shrieked as a stranger stepped inside the house and snatched him up off the linoleum. Effie dropped the cupcake and hopped to her feet.

“Hey sweet cheeks,” Trevor greeted.

“What the fuck, Effie? Do you know this nutcase?” Brett seethed from Trevor’s grasp. His hands were bound in front of him with a black zip tie. There was coagulated blood caked beneath his obviously broken nose. Trevor gripped Brett’s windbreaker and shoved him back to his knees as he tried to stand.

“I’m calling the police,” a horrified Rose uttered. Effie snatched Rose’s phone out of her hand and tossed it onto the sofa.

“We are here to apologize. Aren’t we?” Trevor said with a small pat to the top of Brett’s head.

“Effie, this is that fuck from the store. You said you didn’t know him!” Brett hissed through his teeth.

“Now what did I tell you on the way over here?” Trevor quietly asked. He reached down into his boot and withdrew a hunting knife. Rose clapped a hand to her lips to squelch another squeal. Trevor gripped a handful of Brett’s hair and pressed the blade against his throat, keeping his wild eyes on Effie. She couldn’t look away, chest rising and falling in deep breaths as though she were the one being held captive.

“Oh fuck man. I’m sorry, dude. I’m- Don’t kill me,” Brett pleaded.

“What did I tell you to say?” Trevor demanded.

“I’m s-sorry, Effie.”

“For?” Trevor gave her ex's head another jerk and the smell of urine filled the room as Brett wet his pants. Rose gagged and shrank back a step, afraid to move too much in case she caught the attention of the stranger in front of them.

“I’m sorry for the emo-emotional and psychological damage I did to you by ch-cheating, Effie,” Brett stammered out, tears flowing down his red face.

“And?” Trevor urged.

“And I’m sorry for being a douche bag wh-who drinks diet soda!”

Effie didn’t fight the little laugh that tickled the back of her throat and the sound made Trevor’s chest swell up. He ran the knife through the zip tie, popping the plastic, then shoved Brett toward the door.

“Now get the fuck outta here,” he demanded. Brett tripped over himself as he hurried out of the house and off the porch then disappeared down the road.

“Bravo. What an elaborate apology,” Effie quietly let out. Trevor bowed and tucked away his knife.

“Good to see you again. Part of me was thinkin’ he was leadin’ me to an ambush of some sort,” he said.

“You two know each other?” Rose spoke up. Trevor stepped toward the blonde with an extended hand but froze, one boot coming down in the puddle of urine.

“I’ll get the mop!” Rose exclaimed, quickly scurrying to the kitchen.

“How did you find him?” Effie asked.

“I have a friend of a friend who’s good with computers. It wasn’t hard once I had a name. Mighta scared a few of the wrong guys before I got it right,” he explained. “How ya feeling?”

“Fine, I suppose. I appreciate you scaring the hell out of him. He’s been a bully since I met him,” she claimed. Trevor raised an eyebrow.

“And you still dated him?”

“What can I say?” she shrugged. “I have a type.”

Rose made her way back into the room with a damp mop in tow.

“Allow me,” Trevor volunteered. She eyed him warily before handing over the mop and letting out a deep, shaky sigh.

“How did you two meet?” she asked. Trevor grunted as he cleaned up the mess he had helped make.

“We met at the store over a month ago. I didn’t properly introduce myself until our second meeting, where she told me about Douche McBag and I HAD to do something about him.”

“You didn’t HAVE to,” Effie interjected with a scoff.

“I absolutely did HAVE to. You wouldn’t have told me his name if part of you didn’t want the situation handled. Besides, guys like Brett think they can get away with everything 'cause everyone is scared of em. I’M the boogeyman around here. Not him!” Trevor cackled, making Rose jump.

“The boogeyman? Really?” Effie rolled her eyes. “You might have Brett shaking in his sneakers but you’re not fooling me. I can see right through you.”

Trevor stopped mopping and looked at the woman standing in front of him with her arms crossed over her chest. Her chestnut brown eyes bore into him and chopped him into tiny pieces. It scared the hell out of him.

“Oh yeah?” he tried, voice wavering only slightly. “Then what do you see?”

“I see an attempted murderer,” Rose spoke up. “What you did was wrong.”

“No, what he did to our mutual friend was wrong.”

“Infidelity doesn’t warrant abuse-“

“Infidelity IS abuse. Cut the theatrics,” he sneered in Rose’s direction. “You got an ex you want beat up, just ask.”

Rose pursed her lips, turned to Effie and said,

“I want him out of our house.”

Effie grabbed Trevor by the forearm and led him to the door. His eyes glanced down at her warm hand on his arm, her thin fingers wrapping around the tough skin without hesitation. She didn’t flinch against his tough muscles rolled as he moved with her without protest. She pulled him onto the porch and shut the door behind them.

“Ice princess doesn’t seem to like me,” Trevor let out once they were alone.

“Rose goes to church twice a week and doesn’t curse. I think that might have been a little too much for her,” Effie explained with a wince.

“I don’t have to worry about her running her mouth to anyone, do I?” he asked, a rumble rolling onto the edge of his tone. The hint of aggression sent a shiver down Effie’s spine that made her press her toes hard against the wooden porch beneath her bare feet. She eyed the man beside her and felt her heart pick up a bit. How a man so bold, brash, and beaten kept himself together was beyond her. She eyed the scars and tattoos adorning his arms as he hiked the mop over his shoulder. He could have done way worse to Brett.

“I don’t think Rose will say much. I thought you were the boogeyman around these parts anyway?” she teased with a wink.

“Do I look like I could even hurt a fly?” he asked, winking back. She shook her head and smiled. He looked like he could hurt the devil himself but like the bartender had said, he had taken a liking to her. And Effie could start to see it now with how quickly he had defended her and the way his amber eyes lingered just a second too long in one spot whenever he looked her way.

“I’ve got a dumpster fire to start,” he gestured to the mop then marched down the brick stairs. “Hopefully you never see our pal Brett again.”

“If I do, I know who to call,” she replied, watching him climb into that truck of his.

“With what number?” he called back to her with a wink. He tossed the mop into the metal bed then hurriedly pull away from the curb, disappearing down the street.


	6. Chapter 6

“Can you please just come with me? Someone has to make sure I don’t drink.”

“If you don’t go to a BAR, you won’t be tempted to drink. Simple solution.”

Effie glared at Rose in the mirror as she paused in buttoning up her jeans. Rose shrugged and Effie sucked her teeth.

“You’re not wrong but-“

“But you’re looking for that psychopath, aren’t you?” Rose finally caught on, whirling around in the chair to send her friend an incredulous look.

“No, I just want to get out of the house.”

“If it has anything to do with him, I’m not doing it. He’s nuts,” Rose insisted.

“Then I’ll go by myself,” Effie said with a roll of her eyes.

“I’ll keep the police on speed dial for when he sends you back to me in a body bag.”

“Rose... I know how to take care of myself,” she huffed. She stepped into a pair of sandals, grabbed her clutch, and left the quiet house.

Down the road, Effie pulled into one of the parking spots along the sidewalk outside of the Hen House. A giggly man and woman pushed out of the bar and used the crosswalk to cross the street, their hands drunkenly wandering one another’s bodies. The sound of the jukebox inside the bar was muffled out on the quietly buzzing street. She stepped out into the humid air, eyes peering up and down the dim road. She didn’t expect to find him tonight but this was the only place she could think to try. Nightlife in Paleto Bay wasn’t exactly lively but other than the beach, the Hen House was the most popular place to be, even on a weekday night.

Brett’s bloody, sobbing face came and went in her memories but the fierce satisfaction on Trevor’s face was burned behind her eyelids. She knew it wasn’t right, but having someone look out for and take up for her felt nice. Not to mention, her curiosity was getting the better of her. What was his deal?

“You lookin’ for me?” came a familiar rough voice. Effie found Trevor, breathless and lobbing wooden pallets out of the way, in the back of a delivery truck parked in the alley. He rolled a metal keg onto a dolly then one of his uniformed employees wheeled it into the business through a propped open back door.

“Here to try the new beer? It’s some ridiculously expensive, craft, hipster shit. Company on the east coast gave me a barrel to see how it sells,” he explained, patting a dull red canister to his right.

“Only if I can use your tab again,” she suggested.

“You can use anything of mine long as you ask,” he replied. She smiled and shook her head.

“I’ll take a rain check. I’m here cause I didn’t properly thank you for taking care of Brett.”

He grunted as he rolled another keg onto the dolly when his employee returned. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with his damp tank top then hopped from the rear of the truck. Effie’s eyes caught sight of another one of his tattoos as the sweaty collar drooped low against his hairy chest. There were dotted lines along his neck and the words CUT HERE inked along his throat.

“You’re... cute when you’re flustered.”

She blinked away from the crude tattoo and caught his eyes on her lips.

“Flustered?” she shot back.

“Yes ma’am. You’re a terrible liar. You just wanted to see me,” he teased.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Trevor,” she shot back, but he wasn’t wrong. Now that she was face to face with the man she hadn’t expected to find, she wasn’t sure what she had planned to say. A corner of his lips twitched up into the smallest smile at the sound of his name leaving her mouth.

“I get off early tomorrow. You wanna go out to lunch?” she tried.

Trevor waved away his employee with the last keg and approached Effie. She had to tilt her chin just slightly to look up at him.

“You asking me on a date?” he asked.

“No, not a date. I just want to repay you,” she claimed. He sighed and scratched the stubble on his cheeks. She was toying with his ego.

“I’d have felt more obliged if you said it was a date,” he grumbled.

“Then pretend it is one,” she retorted. “Pick me up tomorrow at one. Wash your hands and wear something...nice.”

He looked down at his hands, covered in grime and dust from loading and unloading the truck, then chuckled.

“Your wish is my command,” he said with a dramatic bow at the waist.

“Well I’m gonna get back to the house. Rose knows I’m up to no good and she’s worried the boogeyman will get me.”

“Tell her the boogeyman doesn’t go after beautiful women,” he stated, which rose a deep blush in her caramel cheeks.

“I’ll be sure to let her know,” Effie said with a squeak as she backed up toward her car, heart racing. Trevor thoughtfully chewed his chapped bottom lip, ridiculously satisfied with his one-liner, as he watched the woman clumsily make her way back to her car along the road.


	7. Chapter 7

“Newlyweds are disgusting,” Effie muttered to herself as she yanked the stained bedding off the mattress and tossed it into her cart by the door of the motel room. She picked up the empty champagne bottle and tossed it into the full trash bag in her gloved grasp as she collected the various bits of garbage littering the room. She pushed the chairs back under the tables then wiped down all the counters and surfaces with bleach wipes. She plugged up the vacuum cleaner and started to work on the broken glass ground into the carpet under the cracked photographs on the wall. Someone had obviously gotten carried away last night. 

She grit her teeth and focused on cleaning as her temper started to flare again. She had known better. Yesterday wasn’t a date but she still felt stood up and disappointed. Working had been a good distraction for the last five hours but now she was nearing the end of her shift and she was running out of steam herself. The vacuum powered down in her grasp and she huffed.

“What the...” she turned around and found Trevor standing in the open doorway with the cord in his grasp. Her jaw was set and her dark eyes were ablaze with anger. 

“You mind? I’m trying to get some work done,” she hissed. He winced and shuffled his feet.

“I’m sorry I-“

“Save it,” she shot back. She crossed the room and swatted for the cord but he lifted it above his head, out of her reach. 

“I didn’t mean to stand you up. I had to deal with some things at work and the next time I looked at the clock, hours had passed,” he explained.

“Work?” she echoed, planting her hands on her hips. She couldn’t believe it. He had probably been getting drunk. “At the bar?”

“At the strip club.”

She tossed up her hands and scoffed. “I have to hear this one.”

“I run a strip club down in Los Santos.”

“And?”

“A guy tried to run out on one of my girls without paying, so I had to chase him down,” he explained. 

“How do you even come about owning a strip club?” she glowered, not believing his excuse.

“It’s a long story for another day. Regardless, I didn’t look at the time til it was late and I still had to hit the road to come back up here.”

“You should have called.”

“With what number?” he dryly joked to which she rolled her eyes.

“I’m sure your friend of a friend who’s good with computers could help you there. You mind?” she gestured to the cord in his hand. “I have a half hour til I clock out and this room has to be finished beforehand.”

He handed her the cord then asked, “What are you doin’ afterward?”

She stared him right in the eyes as she hit the power button, switching the vacuum cleaner back on. The old vacuum’s suction was loud and nerve wracking.

“What? I can’t hear you!” she said, cupping a hand over her ear before she went back to cleaning. Retreating to his truck with his tail tucked between his legs, he left her to her work. He pulled his aviators from the visor and plopped down in the drivers seat. He deserved her attitude. He had been looking forward to finally spending time with her and getting to know her but time had eluded him. After beating up the fleeing strip club customer, he had beat himself up about flaking all night. He knew she would be upset but he had no idea she would be more angry than hurt. It kind of turned him on how she never seemed to bat an eyelash while everyone flinched and winced with every move he made.

Effie emerged from the motel room just over twenty minutes later and paused in her tracks when she saw Trevor still waiting in the late afternoon sun. He was scrolling through his phone, his brow furrowed and jaw slack. She wheeled her cart into the maid’s quarters on the end of the lot and started to load the washing machines for the next shift to unload. She hung her apron on one of the hooks in the wall, clocked out, and took the trash out to the dumpster before she came back to where Trevor was parked. 

“Why are you still here?” she asked, agitation still fresh.

“Wanna grab dinner?” he proposed.

“Am I getting stood up this time?”

“That was a one time thing. I promise,” he reassured her. He reached over and popped open the passenger door. She climbed into the truck and snapped on her seatbelt. She pulled her uniform polo over her head and let it fall on the seat between them. She readjusted the straps on her camisole and fidgeted against the worn, warm seat. He quickly yanked down a faded picture of a nude woman from its place in the visor and tossed it out of the window.

“A model...” he tried to reason, cheeks burning. As he turned the key, she spoke up.

“Nuh uh. Seatbelt.”

“I never wear-“

“You’re gonna wear it when I’m around,” she ordered. Trevor stuck his tongue in his cheek, trying to hide how amused he was at her boldness. Finally, he obliged the woman’s orders and buckled his seatbelt


	8. Chapter 8

Rose shook her head as she watched Trevor round his truck and make his way up the sidewalk toward where she was relaxing on the front porch of her house.

“She’s not here,” she spoke up. 

“Good. I wanted it to be a surprise. Can you leave these in her room or somethin’?” Trevor asked. He held out a dozen daffodils wrapped in blue convenience store plastic. Rose eyed them and frowned.

“Roses would have been more romantic,” she stated.

“Well these are her favorite. She told me on our date last night,” he revealed, smug.

“Where did you two go?”

“Up N Atom diner up the road. She ain’t tell you about it?”

“No... I reckon she might be a little ashamed of you. She’s probably only being nice out of pity. You really need to stay away from her,” she suggested with a small shake of her head.

“Effie’s a grown woman. She can decide if she wants to be around me or not,” Trevor recited. It had become something of a mantra he repeatedly told himself when his confidence faltered and he couldn’t believe a woman like Effie just kept looking forward to seeing him. Their first date had been short and at a stuffy diner but she seemed so content. Rose had to be spouting bullshit. She HAD to be... but everyone ran from him. They always ran...

“You’re no good for her. You’re no good for anyone. You’ll just end up eventually tearing her down and taking her back some place she doesn’t need to go and what will happen? I’ll be the one stuck cleaning up your mess and putting her back together,” Rose declared. Trevor’s arm went slack by his side and a few petals fell free against the porch. 

“Take her back where?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

“Doesn’t matter. I know the kind of person you are, Trevor. You’re not better than Brett. I can see the needle scars in the crook of your elbow and on your arms,” she carried on with the taunting.

“I’ve been clean for months. I’m too busy to even think about-“

“All it takes is a second and you will go running back to crystal and then what? You’ll offer my friend some?”

“I would never let her-“

“Can you say that with one-hundred percent confidence?”

Trevor grit his teeth and his fist tightened around the flowers. The newly broken leaves and stems pricked his palm and fingers.

“No offense, but you don’t know what the FUCK you’re talkin’ about, Rose.”

He spun on his heel and darted off the porch. His pulse was racing in his ears. His vision was blurring on the edges. He never put his hands on women but he wanted to cover Rose’s mouth with his hand and snuff her words into non-existence as they echoed through his skull. He clapped a hand to his forehead and let out a few shaky breaths before he slammed the daffodils against the asphalt in the street and climbed into his truck. He turned the radio up loud and peeled off down the road.

Effie pulled up in her Mesa a few minutes later. Her roommate was scrambling to pick up the flowers scattered along the curb at the end of their driveway.

“Hey Eff,” she greeted with a smile. Effie frowned down at the mess of petals around her friend’s bare feet.

“What happened here?” she asked.

“I thought I would surprise you and get your favorites delivered while you were at work but the shoddy delivery boy kinda just chucked them out the truck before I could get to him,” Rose gathered the soft flowers together in her hands and offered the limp bouquet to Effie.

“Oh... Aw, well thank you,” she wrapped the woman in a hug. “I had a shit shift so this is appreciated.”

“Wanna order a pizza and forget about it?”

“Rose, you know exactly what I need.”


	9. Chapter 9

“Have you seen Trevor?”

The bartender at the Hen House looked up from the drink she was making and shook her head. “Not today. What’s up?”

“I just... Never mind. Can I get a soda?” Effie ordered with a sigh. She sat down on one of the stools and scrolled through her phone. No calls or texts from any unsaved numbers. He wasn’t at the Hen House. She didn’t know the name of the club he owned in the city and she didn’t feel like making that drive to aimlessly wander the streets either. 

“Why the long face?” the bartender asked as she pushed over a cold bottle of eCola. Effie glanced at the woman’s name tag before she finally dropped her shoulders with a sigh. Sandy looked concerned but Effie chalked it up to the fact she had to pretend to give a damn about the people she served.

“He, uh, took me on a date and I haven’t seen or heard from him since he dropped me off at home after. That was over a week ago,” Effie confessed with a blush.

“A date?” Sandy’s eyes widened.

“Yeah? Is that bad?” Effie urged.

“No, but it says a lot. He must have it bad for you.”

Effie rolled her eyes and took a swig of her soda. “If he’s got it so bad, why haven’t I seen him?”

“He can be...elusive. Or busy. He’ll pop up when he’s ready. It used to be real bad. My coworkers and I would have to run this place for weeks at a time before we would get a cryptic text from him or he dragged himself in looking like hell.”

The last sentence didn’t sit right with Effie.

“I’m not gonna sit around and wait for someone to be ready. What if something’s wrong?” she asked.

“Like what?” Sandy asked with a laugh. “Have you met him?”

Effie sent the woman a quizzical look. Sandy rounded the bar to take up a seat beside her customer.

“It’s cute you’re worried about him, but no one can hurt Trevor except Trevor. And maybe you, at this point if you’re getting as serious as I assume. He’s one of the toughest motherfuckers I have ever met,” she explained. Effie remembered how he had handled the situation with Brett and pursed her lips.

“But if you really are worried about him, here’s his number. Don’t tell him you got it from me.”

Sandy pulled out her phone and showed Effie her boss’s contact information. Effie quickly saved the number to her phone but hesitated to push the Call button. Sandy reached over Effie’s hand and pushed the button for her then went back around the bar to make a drink as another customer approached. Effie held the phone to her ear and listened to it ring. And ring. And ring. And ring. And ring. She hung up and sighed.

“You know where he lives?” Sandy asked with a smirk. “Sandy Shores. If you’ve got the time, it’s a nice little drive to the Alamo Sea.”

Effie pushed to her feet and fished through her clutch. She handed Sandy a fifty dollar bill.

“Thanks so much. Keep the change. I owe you big time!” she called over her shoulder as she hurried out of the Hen House. She hopped into her Mesa and hit the expressway.

It had been a while since she had felt herself genuinely concerned about someone. Something was off. The two had chatted over milkshakes at the Up N Atom diner. The bully was a goofball when he wasn’t busy beating up ex-boyfriends. Now, days had passed and he couldn’t be bothered to give her a hello? After popping up by her job to make his intentions known? He could have called. If his friend had been good enough to find Brett with just a name, he could have found her number. She shook her head and focused on the road as she rode past what seemed like endless farmland.

The GPS guided her through a tunnel and past the small town of Grapeseed she hadn’t been bothered to visit since she was way younger. Seagulls bat their wings in the cloudless sky above the body of water that seemed to materialize to her right. Her phone screen said it was the Alamo Sea. She admired the small fishing boats bobbing along the surface.

The sun bleached Welcome to Sandy Shores sign jutted from the corner across from a hotdog stand. She pulled into one of the pumps of a small gas station to top off her gas tank. Just as she popped open her door, an attendant rounded the front of her vehicle and picked up the nozzle to the gas pump. 

“You must not be from ‘round here,” the older man said. He popped open her gas tank and stuck the nozzle in. She handed him a twenty dollar bill and leaned against the side of her vehicle. 

“We’re one of the last places to have working attendants,” he looked her up and down with a gap-toothed smile. “And a pretty lady should never have to pump her own gas.”

She flashed him back a polite but nervous smile and tried hiding herself around the front of her car. The sun beat down on her shoulders and bare legs poking from her denim shorts. It was almost as though someone had cranked up the temperature as soon as she rounded the mountain. Paleto Bay had nothing on this place. 

She looked up and down the quiet road as he filled her gas tank. A stray dog trotted across the street to the hot dog stand and plopped down beneath the shade of an umbrella. The person manning the stand offered the dog half a bun before he plopped down in the plastic chair beside the animal. An older woman cruised by in a faded blue golf cart.

“Do you know Trevor Philips?” Effie finally spoke up. The man slicked back his white hair with sweat and nodded.

“Crazy fella lives just behind the store. What do ya want with’um?”

“Just checking on him,” she replied.

“Awful nice of ya,” he said. He replaced the nozzle then her gas cap. “Enjoy Sandy Shores.”

She didn’t want to hurt his feelings by telling him she wasn’t staying but she had taken the next day off just in case something happened. She rounded the building and sure enough, Trevor’s burgundy truck was parked crooked outside of a ragtag trailer surrounded with a chain link fence. She parked behind him and stood outside the yard for a moment. She surveyed the yard, jaw clenched and heart racing. There was a broken arm chair laying at the bottom of the staircase. A toilet with flowers growing out of it was tucked beside his overturned garbage can. Broken bottles littered the yard. She pulled out her phone and called his number one more time. His cell phone rang loudly from somewhere in his truck.

“Really?” she muttered with a roll of her eyes. She snatched the device out of the seat and stepped into the yard. She kicked an empty beer can and bounced up the lopsided stairs. A dreamcatcher blew in the humid breeze from where it was hung on his screen door. She knocked on the glass a few times. The sounds of the neighborhood responded. A cat meowed not far from where she stood. The sea gulls squawked and cried over the body of water a short walk away. She drew in a chest full of salty air and knocked again, harder, her fist balled up tighter this time.

She heard his low groan then the sound of glass breaking. “Whatever yer sellin’, I ain’t buyin’!”

“You don’t get to disappear on me, Trevor Philips! What’s going on?” she bellowed.

There was a shuffling noise then the sound of something being kicked and him cursing under his breath before the door opened and he looked at her through the screen door. His eyes were rimmed red and there was stubble on his cheeks. He only wore stained sweatpants and both his socks had holes over the big toes. She opened the door between them and looked him right in the eyes.

“Are you okay?” she asked, calm. His brow knit together in confusion.

“What are you doin’ here?”

“I’m here because I was worried about you and it looks like I made the right call stopping by. What happened?” she asked.

Rose’s words bounced around his head again and he pressed his hands into his temples, turning his back to the woman. 

“Mmm just havin’ the time of my life, can’t you tell?” he replied. 

“Now isn’t the time for sarcasm,” she shot back.She followed him inside the air conditioned trailer and snatched a beer out of his hand as he pulled it from the fridge. He plopped down on the messy sofa with a huff and ran a hand over his face.

“I didn’t think you gave a shit about me,” he grumbled. She tossed up her hands and scoffed.

“I’m here aren’t I? Checking to make sure you’re still breathing? I was the one who thought  you didn’t give a shit about  me with the way you just disappeared. No text, no note, nothing.”

“I didn’t want to make your livin’ situation worse with the ice princess. She told me all about you,” he revealed with a frown. She blinked several times.

“What are you talking about?”

“I came to surprise you with flowers. Rose told me you are only bein’ nice to me cause you felt sorry for me and that you were better off without me,” he explained. He clenched his jaw as he finally met her gaze. He looked shaken up. Her mouth popped open a little and she nodded slowly. She bottled up her building aggression and thought before she spoke. 

“So...instead of coming to me and seeing if it’s true, you take matters into your own hands and assume going MIA is the best course of action?” she quietly asked.

“No one knows you better than your roommate,” he said with a shrug.

“Fuck Rose!” she declared, attitude rearing its ugly head. “No one knows me better than I know myself! Rose is... oh, she’s gonna get an earful when I get back! And you? You don’t get to disappear on me like that! We went out and I thought we had a nice time. I thought you were a good guy, a little fucked up obviously, but good enough to feed me and try to bring me flowers! So no, you don’t get to just...go like that. At least talk to me about it first. You promised the flaking was just a one time thing.”

He sat still in place, one eyebrow raised. Her worry over his well-being was subsiding now that she had eyes on him. Her anger was melting and giving way to confusion and disappointment, but she knew there was a disconnect somewhere. 

“What...” she let out a deep sigh to calm herself. “What kind of flowers did you get me?”

“Yellow daffodils,” he answered. She nodded to herself and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Why?” he asked.

“When I got home, Rose said she had bought me those daffodils,” she claimed and his amber eyes flickered with anger. He leapt to his feet but she put up a hand to his chest, stopping him in his tracks.

“I will handle her,” she declared looking up in his face. “Are YOU okay? You look like-“

“Like shit, yeah? My brain isn’t exactly nice to me all the time. Rose said a few things that rubbed me the wrong way,” he muttered.

“Well I wasn’t gonna say ‘shit’. The stubble kinda suits you. Let’s get you in the shower and in some clean clothes so we can get some fresh air and clear that head of yours,” she suggested.

“You’re bein’ nice to me cause you want to, right?” he asked.

“I’m being nice to you because I like you,” Effie said. “Don’t listen to Rose. Listen to me.”


	10. Chapter 10

“Mmmm. This was a dicey move for another date. I shoulda took ya to the Hen House,” Trevor grumbled into his pint.

“Why? I like this change of scenery,” Effie claimed as she bit down into a jumbo shrimp. As she reached for her cup of sweet tea, two men clad in torn leather vests approached the table. They were sunburnt and inherently mean looking. She carefully turned to her date with a look of cautiousness. 

“Can I help you, gentlemen?” Trevor spoke up. Effie noticed a glimmer slip into his eyes and a rumble hung on to the end of his words. His palms slowly curled into fists on top of the wooden table. This was not good.

“You know you ain’t allowed here, Philips,” the stranger closer to Effie stated.

“This place is open to the public, is it not?” she hissed, defenses growing high. 

“Why don’t you wait outside while the big boys handle their business?” one of the men insisted. He gripped Effie by the arm and Trevor was on him before she could be pulled from the booth. Beer sloshed everywhere as the glass pint Trevor had just been sipping out of came in forceful contact with the man's skull. A waiter shrieked and the soft rock band playing a few feet away on stage skipped a few notes. Trevor kicked the beer-covered man in the gut then flipped him over onto a nearby table.

“Don’t ever fuckin’ touch her!” Trevor bellowed as he football tackled the other. They plowed through tables and chairs as the man bore his weight down on Trevor’s shoulders to stay upright. He beat the madman on his back and shoulders before Effie heard the unmistakable click of a switchblade being opened. Trevor was trying to take the man down by his knees when the switchblade was plunged into his side. Trevor grunted but didn’t release from the fight, rage and adrenaline numbing the pain he should have been feeling. Effie gasped and without thinking twice, swiped up an empty beer bottle sitting on a nearby table. She slipped between running waiters and fleeing customers. The man pulled out the blade and was going in for a second stab before Effie cracked him across the face, sending dark green glass and bright red blood flying. Trevor stumbled backward and tucked her under his arm, wild eyes scanning the room like a hawk before they darted for the exit.

“Here!” he wrenched his keys from his pocket and pushed them into her bloody palm.  “Jesus, Eff. Look at your hand.”

“Look at you!” she shot back. Her hand skittered up his bloody side as she helped keep him upright while he fought to stay doubled over on his feet.

“I’m fine. Can you drive?” he still managed to bark.

“To the hospital?”

“Hell no. The Hen House.”

He hurried around the front of the vehicle, smearing blood across the bull bars. She climbed into the driver’s seat and he took the passenger.

“Sirens gettin’ louder. We gotta go, sweet cheeks.”

The truck roared to life under her shaky hands and she peeled away from the seafood restaurant. He grunted in pain as she whisked them around the bend in the road and across the bridge leading to Paleto Bay. Several wailing police cars sped by in the opposite direction but they didn’t  notice them. Effie’s head was spinning. Blood, beer, buttered shrimp. Leather, a switchblade, an immediate altercation. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel and pain shot up her hand. She looked at the blood seeping through her fingers and dripping down the steering wheel. Every nerve in her hand cried out as the last bit of adrenaline flowing through her body finally ran out.

As they neared down, she dropped their speed so they blended in with traffic. Trevor gently grabbed her wrist and turned her hand to see the damage.

“You did a number on that guy,” he muttered as he winced at the bits of green glass still in her skin. He was worried and impressed.

“And that guy did a number on you. I couldn’t let him get another one in,” she said, eyes darting over the dark blood staining his shirt.

“I’ll be fine,” he insisted. “Promise.”

“You were STABBED,” she incredulously let out. "Fine? It's not fine!"

“I’ve been stabbed more times than I can count on both hands and don’t ask how many times I’ve been shot. I’ve lost track,” he said with a weak laugh as his head rest against the seat. His forehead was shiny with sweat. She wasn't sure if he was growing pale beneath his permanent tan.

She pulled them into the back alley of the Hen House. Trevor unlocked the employee entrance and clambered inside, knocking over boxes as he struggled to stay upright. Sandy came rushing to the back of the business with both hands wrapped around a baseball bat.

“Oh hell. Come on,” she demanded with a sigh, as though this was just a minor inconvenience that happened all the time. She hooked one of Trevor’s arms over her shoulders and pulled him down a short hallway. Effie followed them through a swinging door that gave way to a small, dim office area. Trevor shrugged off of Sandy and swiped a light switch on, smearing blood on the wall.

“C’mere,” he pushed open a door that gave way to a small bathroom. He plopped down on the toilet seat lid. Sandy stuck her fingers in the cut in his shirt and pulled until the fabric ripped then fell to the linoleum. Effie stuck her bleeding hand under cool running water in the sink. Bigger pieces of glass tinkled against the porcelain and her bright blood ran down the drain.

Sandy pulled a first aid kit out from the bottom of the sink then kneeled on the floor beside Trevor and went to work. It was obvious she knew what she was doing and that it wasn't her first time.

“You make this look like an ordinary day in the office,” Effie let out. She eyed the various scars adorning Trevor’s abdomen and chest. There was a lightning bolt keloid just beside his navel that was shiny and newer than the others.

“I piss off a lot of folks,” he spoke up, noticing her gaze.

“Who were those men at the restaurant?” she asked. Trevor winced. Sandy sighed and shook her head.

“She better not be talking about Hokies.”

“She _is_ talking about Hokies,” he said with a wide smile. “Ran into some bikers.”

“Duh. That’s one of their clubhouses, you dunce.”

“My dear lady said she was craving seafood,” he said with a shrug. “Her wish is my command.”

“You’ll be a dead genie you keep pulling stunts like that. Don’t let him fool you, Effie. There are some places he just shouldn’t go,” Sandy explained as she sorted through a pack of tangled gauze.

“How did you piss off some bikers?” Effie asked.

“Killed a few of their club members, including their leader, Johnny K. Interfered with their clientele. You want the full list of offenses or...?”

Effie rolled her eyes and tried to focus on plucking the glass out of her hand. The smell of blood in the tiny bathroom was starting to make her nauseous. The eye roll hadn't helped the dizzy sensation growing between her eyes. There was so much blood. It was drying down her forearm and around her elbow where it had run while she drove. Trevor’s blood seemed to be smeared along everything he had touched. Her shirt was bloody and beer-stained. The fresh bottle of rubbing alcohol Sandy had opened added another layer of pungent odor to the room. She snatched a handful of paper towels out of the wall-mounted dispenser and pressed them into her injured palm.

“I gotta... I gotta sit down...” she mumbled as the room started to tilt.

“Effie? Effie!”


	11. Chapter 11

Effie’s mouth was dry. A sheen of sweat line her forehead and made it slick behind her knees. Waking up just enough to roll over against the thin mattress beneath her, a dull ache in her hand stopped her in her tracks. She used her other hand to rub her eyes then wipe the dampness from her forehead. It took a few blinks to clear her blurry vision. It had been a while since she had been out cold that hard. It took her a moment to realize she wasn’t in her bedroom. Slowly, she sat up and recognized the busted window at the other end of the room.

“Trevor...” she muttered before she wet her chapped lips and called him again, louder this time. “Trevor?”

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and rolled her tense shoulders. Her entire body was wound up tight. Adrenaline's fight or flight response had burned through all of her energy during the altercation at Hokies and her body crashed. Hard. She looked down at her bandaged hand to find gauze secured to her palm with white medical tape and cheap, pink bandages were wrapped around a few of her fingers. There were traces of dried blood in the crook of her elbow and beneath her fingernails, but it was obvious someone had tried to scrub it away. Her soiled outfit was gone. An oversized _Vespucci Beach Rox!_ t-shirt hung off one of her shoulders and black boxers barely clung to her waist.

Effie pushed to her feet and stood in the doorway. His trailer was considerably tidier than the last time she had stopped by when he was mid-breakdown after Rose told him off. At the time, she hadn’t been sure if he lived that way or if his feelings had just been that hurt for a while. It appeared it was the latter now. She could hear his low voice from somewhere outside. She pushed through the screen door and out into the evening humidity of the Grand Senora desert. Trevor was pacing in the street just outside of his yard, his cell phone pushed to his ear. He quickly flipped his middle finger at an occupied golf cart passing by, the driver careful to stay as far away as possible on the narrow street. The screen door slapped shut behind her, catching his attention.

“She’s awake. Call me if you see anything. And Wade? Don’t fuck up,” he said into the receiver.

Effie yawned as he descended the stairs. The bit of dried grass and sand was warm beneath her bare feet.

“How’s your side? Did Sandy stop the bleeding?” she immediately asked as she rubbed her eyes. A grin crept over Trevor’s face. No one ever asked if he was alright. They always assumed he was or eventually would be but she refused to stamp him with such invincibility. He was going to ask about her hand but she beat him to the punch.

“She stopped enough of the bleedin'. What about you? You scared the hell outta me when you hit the floor like that,” he explained.

“I’ll be alright. It was just a lot going on at once. Was expecting a quiet date, not an attempted murder,” she said with a sigh. She went back to the porch to take a seat on the sofa tucked into the corner and relax with her eyes closed in an attempt to slow the world still slowly spinning. Trevor sat down beside her and rubbed the back of his neck with a grimace.

“Yeah... sorry. I didn’t mean to put you in harm’s way. I would never-“

“It’s fine,” she interrupted his speech before he could feel bad for what happened all over again.

“We lived, didn’t we? I’ve always wanted to crack someone in the face with a bottle anyway. I can scratch that one off my bucket list.”

When her eyes finally met his, he let out a deep breath, a breath he felt like he had been holding since the bikers first approached their booth at Hokies. He knew what would happen before they even opened their mouths. He had for sure thought that would do the two of them in, that she would be scared away or refuse to put up with any of it. Yet here she was, sitting on his porch and wearing one of his shirts while joking about having decked a man in the face with glass to save his life. It made his heart race.

“Err, thank you,” Trevor said.

“For what? Saving you? I couldn’t let you die in that awful restaurant.”

“Awful?” he raised an eyebrow. Effie quietly snickered.

“The shrimp was fine but the crab legs? Meh. The beer smelled watered down too,” she claimed.

“I guess that just means I have to take ya out again to make up for it,” he said with a big sigh, pretending to complain.

“No bikers this time?” she asked, nudging him with her elbow. He looked to find her pinky extended in his direction. He wrapped his pinky finger around hers and nodded. Simple but a strong gesture for a promise.

“No bikers.”

“You know... Surprisingly enough? Not the worst date I’ve been on,” she revealed.

“That’s a relief,” he said, wiping a bit of pretend sweat from his forehead.

“Back when I tried online dating, I told this guy I liked horror movies so he took me to see _The Thing In The Sewers _before they tore that old theater down in Paleto Bay. Poor guy was squeamish. He threw up on me not thirty minutes into the movie. I literally had his puke in my lap. Safe to say I didn’t contact him ever again,” she explained.

“I bet . You ever finish the movie?”

“Nah," she shook her head. "The theater attendant threw both of us out and I was so put off from the whole thing I sorta repressed the memory until now.”

Trevor grinned. “Well, you remember that fish tank the camera focused on at the beginning of the movie? The thing in the sewer gets offed by the police but there were babies of it swimmin’ in the tank no one ever noticed.”

Effie’s mouth fell open. “That’s quite a twist. How about a spoiler alert next time?”

“What? It’s been like five years since that movie came out!”

She shook her head again and laughed at the man beside her. She couldn’t believe this movie spoiling ball of nerves was also a biker-killing psychopath. Her curiosity was beginning to get the best of her and she wasn’t sure where to start, but she knew it was too soon and that now wasn’t the time. Their close call earlier was enough for her today.

“Hopefully this doesn’t take long to heal,” she muttered as she plucked at the medical tape pressed against her skin.

“Don’t do that,” Trevor urged, gently batting away her uninjured hand. Slick as could be and without a word, she slipped her fingers around his rough palm then through his grasp, lacing her thin fingers around his. She rested her head on his shoulder and let out a quiet sigh, hiding her blushing face beneath her hair.

“It’s nice here. Very quiet,” she let out. Trevor’s wide eyes were glued to her hand in his. His face was hot. Her forearm was pressed right up against his too. Her knuckles rest against his jeans and his against her bare leg. His heart was racing. Say something, idiot.

“Very nice. Very quiet,” he repeated after her with a nervous nod. “You should visit more.”

“I’d love to,” she said, smiling to herself then she brandished her bandaged hand. “Under different circumstances, of course.”

The two chuckled then fell into a comfortable silence.


	12. Chapter 12

Effie pushed into her home, kicking off her tennis shoes as soon as the door closed behind her.

“How was work?” came Rose’s voice from the kitchen. Effie rolled her eyes. Recently, she and Rose didn’t cross paths often due to their work schedules but when they did, it was only for an hour or two at most. Ever since Rose had taken it upon herself to try and run Trevor off, Effie was on pins and needles around her roommate. She didn’t look forward to meeting her in the kitchen but her stomach was growling. She could just order something... That would do it. As she started to disappear down the hallway, Rose stepped from the kitchen and leaned against the wall, blocking her path to their bedrooms.

“How long are you going to try to avoid me? It’s been days. What did I do?” Rose asked, feigning innocence as she made her baby blue eyes as wide as possible. Effie licked her lips and shook her head. It was getting harder and harder for her to stay quiet. Nice words were evading her mind as the days passed. She wanted to eat and lie down.

“Can you please move?” she politely asked. 

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong,” Rose said with a sweet smile. “Did that guy piss you off or something? I told you he wasn’t any good to-“

“Fuck you, Rose.”

The color drained from her roommate’s face. It was so silent, whatever Rose had been cooking could be heard sizzling on the stovetop. Effie’s blood rushed in her ears. 

“You lied to me and you lied to him,” she finally started up.

Rose insisted on playing her role. “I don’t know what you’re-“

“Horse shit!” Effie barked, stepping closer to the woman and leaning into her as she shrank back against the wall. “Trevor brought me those flowers and you told him I didn’t give a shit about him. Then you make fun of him? You don’t even fucking know him! What’s got your panties in a bunch? Huh? A guy is nice to me and you have to try and ruin the whole thing.”

“Trevor Philips is a meth head lunatic. I hear stories about him every day during my shifts at the hospital. I’m just trying to protect you. Remember when I saved-“

“Do not start with this story right now. You helped save me from myself and I’ve repeatedly thanked you for it. You don’t get to walk around here with your nose in the air like you’re some saint when you lied the way that you did,” Effie claimed. Rose nodded to herself.

“You don’t even care about the fact that he does drugs _and_ sells drugs. What if he pushed you back down that path? Then what?”

“Then I would live with the consequences of my actions!” Effie declared, throwing her hands up in the air. “But I’m not going back, don't you get it? I don’t want to and no one can make me, whether I date them or not. That would be MY decision to make.”

“It doesn’t even have to be in the air for debate if you avoid him altogether,” Rose insisted.

“So I can be like you? Gimme another decade and I’ll be just like you: bitter and alone, trying to take solace in taking care of other people and their problems instead of confronting my own.”

Rose swallowed hard and blinked a few times as the words smacked her across the face. Effie sighed and backed away from the woman, pressing a shaky hand to her forehead.

“I’m so sorry,” she apologized. “I didn’t want to explode but I hate being lied to. I’m gonna get some air.”

Effie stepped back into her sneakers and left the house. She climbed into her Mesa and cruised down the street. She sat outside of the Hen House for a few minutes before pushing inside. A group of men were playing pool. One of them noticed her crossing the room and whistled.

“Watch yourself there, bud,” came Trevor’s voice as a loud warning. He was behind the bar with Sandy, halfway up a ladder, rearranging bottles of liquor along the brick wall.

“Soda or water?” Sandy suggested as Effie took a seat on a stool. 

“Shot of whatever vodka you’ve got,” she ordered. Both Sandy and Trevor turned their eyes to the exasperated-looking woman. Trevor came down the ladder and stood directly across from her.

“You told me you were done drinkin’. What happened?” he asked in a low, concerned voice.

“I cursed out Rose, insulted her a lil bit.”

Trevor scratched his head and shrugged. “I mean, she deserved it.”

Sandy made herself busy on the other end of the bar to give the two of them privacy. Trevor watched Effie run a hand over her face over and over.

“Just one shot. That’s it,” he sternly obliged. He poured two shots of vodka, bucked one of them back then pushed the other her way. She threw her head back and swallowed it without a wince.

“She’s just so... she’s developed this complex since she helped me and she thinks she can hold it over my head but it’s been YEARS. For fucks sake, let it go,” Effie gushed. The heat in her cheeks went flushing through her entire body as she realized what she had just disclosed.

“How did she help you?” Trevor asked. Effie met his gaze and Trevor felt the conversation shift as she uncomfortably fidgeted in the seat. 

“You don’t hafta talk about it if you don’t wanna,” he quickly let out. Effie shook her head and lowered her eyes to the marked-up counter between the two of them. 

“I... I used to do coke. I used to not be able to get out of bed without a line or two. Then it just got outta control.”

“You?” Trevor’s eyebrows knit together and his eyes scanned her over for any bit of a lie. 

“When I was in my early twenties, my parents kicked me out 'cause of it. I was on the streets for a while til I bumped into Rose. She was working at a medical center. I had a real bad sinus infection cause I snorted whatever I could off of anything I found. She was my nurse for a while, then she helped me clean up my act off the clock. She moved me in with her off the streets like four years ago. I was an absolute train wreck. My hair was falling out. I was going days without eating or sleeping. She locked me in my room when my withdrawals sent me running the streets, looking for a fix. She helped me turn my life around but she still holds it over my head and it’s just so fucking infuriating.”

“You need some space from her, some space to find yourself,” Trevor suggested. 

“I don’t know how.”

“I had... have... whatever. When I was younger, I had a friend I did everything with. After a while, I felt like I couldn’t fuckin’ breathe when this prick was around. Eventually, he got a family of his own. We started spendin’ less time together until one day, he faked his death and disappeared for a long, long time. I was forced onto my own and it was like a whole new world opened up to me,” he explained, one side of his mouth twitching in between a smile and a sneer. 

“Jesus Christ, Trevor...” she whispered. He shook his head and waved a hand.

“Enough about me. How are you gonna get away from the ice princess?”

“I’m gonna book a room at the Dreamview for a few days. It’ll give us both some time to simmer down,” she explained.

“Anything I can do?” he asked.

“Can you pour me another shot?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Rose was already worried about me influencin' you, Eff. Should I be worried too?”

He didn’t want her to answer, afraid of whatever the honesty would bring up. He knew the risks of having been an addict and being enabled. He knew the potential risks he could bring and knowing he could hurt her in a way made him hurt too.

“You’re right,” she said. She turned her shot glass upside down and pushed it away. “What’re you doing for the rest of the night?”

“Sandy, you reckon you can hold down the fort til Blake comes to relieve you?” he asked over his shoulder. Sandy sent him a salute as she wiped out a glass. 

“I’m free for whatever chaos you’d like to unleash, sweet cheeks.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s just something about hotel rooms...

Chaos. Chaos was rolling around inside of Trevor’s head. Loud. Unyielding. Frightening. Chaos. The kind he hadn’t felt in an eternity.

The shower squeaked as she turned off the running water in the nude-colored bathroom. They were alone. They were separated by a wall. If he leaned far enough forward, he could probably catch a glimpse of her in the wide, wall-mounted mirror. He shook his head and grimaced at himself. That would be rude. The mirror was fogged up from the steam anyway. She doesn’t need to be gawked at, he thought to himself. She was just like everyone else. Except, she wasn’t. She was sweet, beautiful, and scary. She had attacked a man for him. She was running from her own demons by running into the arms of a demon like him. 

He muttered an insult directed at himself and clicked his tongue against his teeth. Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned back in the stiff chair. His leg nervously bounced. He placed a hand on his kneecap to try to stop the anxious movement.

“You can get comfortable. I won’t bite unless you want me to.”  She laughed as she peeked out at him from around the doorway then returned to the bathroom. His pulse skyrocketed. He swiped the remote control off the side table and switched on the television a few feet from the chaise at the foot of the bed. Reruns of _The Underbelly of Paradise_ flashed on the screen and Trevor found himself scoffing. He faintly remembered the look on Agent Steve Haines’ face just before he had pulled the trigger and ended him on the Ferris wheel of the Del Perro Pier. He had only met the man a handful of times but when he knew it was time for someone to go, it was time for that someone to go. Trevor’s stomach turned at how easily the thought crossed his mind. He had calmed down substantially since the event but he knew it was still in him if it had to be. If anything happened to her-

“I was thinking of ordering food... you okay? Why are you so far away?”

Trevor blinked away from the television. Effie was in a tank top and plaid pajama pants, sprawled across the hotel room bed with her dark eyes trained on him. She glanced at the television.

“I heard about that guy. He’s such a twat in this show. It’s no wonder someone did what they did to him,” she said then she tapped the empty side of the mattress. “Come on before I change my mind and send you home.”

Trevor quickly tugged off his boots and took a seat on the other side of the bed. Effie pulled out her phone. 

“Do you want Italian or Mexican?”

“I’ll order it,” he snatched her phone and tucked it under his leg before pulling out his own.

“No way! You already coerced your way into paying for my room. Lemme get dinner.”

He used one hand to hold her away at arm's length and the other to complete the order. 

“And send! Hope you like orange chicken and rice. Your order will be delivered at 6:51PM,” he read the screen before he placed both of the phones on the side table. She threw herself back against the thick pillows with a huff.

“What’s next? You wanna pay my part of the rent?”

“You need me to?” he asked, deadpan. She raised an eyebrow.

“You pay all your girlfriend’s bills?”

Unyielding. Frightening. Loud. Chaos.

“Oh so you’re my girlfriend now?” he shot back with a sly smirk in hopes of filling her with the same anxiety he was juggling. She just smiled.

“Well I’ve been waiting for you to ask me properly but it seems like I’m going to have to give myself that promotion.”

“I never really... Err. I like you, a lot, but the bikers and the... other things. It’s a lot to take in and consider,” he quickly explained. “I didn’t wanna rush ya.”

Effie looked down at the new scars in her right hand from the altercation at Hokies. “Makes sense.”

She leaned back into her pillows and crossed her ankles while she watched the television. Steve Haines verbally assaulted randomly pedestrians into interviews in the streets. Her fingers absentmindedly traced the raised flesh in her palm. Trevor reached over and took her hand in his to calm her fidgeting. Her shoulders dropped and she let out a quiet breath. She stared at the scars and tattoos on his knuckles. His callouses tickled hers.

“So what‘re the other things ?” she finally asked.

Trevor sucked in a deep breath and scratched his head. She had shared with him what was probably her biggest secret. It was only right he reciprocated or else she would think he had some sort of excuse keeping him at bay.

“Here,” Trevor used the remote to turn up the volume on the television. Steve Haines started talking about how the Chinese were conspiring to smuggle weapons into the state of San Andreas.

“That’s the one bit of truth that idiot told,” Trevor said as he wagged a finger at the television. 

“You got something to do with guns getting smuggled into San Andreas by the-“

“By the Chinese, yeah.”

“Well, Rose said you sell drugs,” she spoke up.

“Do you have to say it that way?” he griped. “I run a  business .”

“Out of that strip club?”

“No,” he quickly shook his head. “The Vanilla Unicorn is a business venture all on its own. I own a private airstrip in Grapeseed. Trevor Philips Industries.”

“So how exactly did you come about owning a strip club?”

He could hear the curiosity and jealousy in her voice. Part of him was amused she was more concerned with the legitimate strip club as opposed to his gun and drug trading.

“Anything is possible when you’re a successful businessman.”

Effie laughed. “Oh yeah? So that’s why my roommate is so opposed to you? Cause you’re a ‘successful businessman’?”

He glowered then softened his expression. He was being forced into facing more demons than he would currently like. 

“You must really trust me to tell me these things,” she whispered.

“Yeah,” Trevor hurriedly let out. “I do. You probably think I’m crazy."

“I watched you rob a store in broad daylight. Crazy is an understatement,” she smiled and chewed her bottom lip. “But I kinda like crazy.”

Trevor opened his mouth to say something about how she should run away from crazy but Effie leaned over and quieted him with a kiss. She tugged at the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer so she could trace his bottom lip with the tip of her tongue. A shudder rocked him from head to toe before he jerked her into his lap. She ground her hips into his and suckled his bottom lip between her teeth. 

His head flew back then he groaned, eyes clenching shut as her teeth found his neck. Her tongue traced the broken lines of his tattoo. Cut here, lick here, bite here... He couldn’t remember what it said. His head was swimming. He finally reached out with his wide hands, roughly gripping her sides in an attempt to control her movements. This was better than any alcohol, any drug he had ever done. However, it wasn’t the time. He wasn’t ready to go overboard just yet, but she was so soft and smelled so good. Maybe just a little...

There came several knocks at the door of the hotel room. Trevor freed her hips and Effie pulled away to fall against the mattress, hiding her blushing face in a pillow.

“Maybe it’s the food,” he muttered, both relieved and agitated with the disruption. Effie eyed the clock on the wall.

"They're always on time when you're not expecting,” she noted. As soon as Trevor unbolted the lock, a man shoved the door inward and let himself inside.

“Jeez. What’re you doing cooped up in a room this nice?” the stranger asked. His back was to Effie and his arms were opened wide. “You busy? Let’s grab a drink. Franklin’s on the way.”

Trevor’s eyes flitted to Effie then back to the man between the two of them. The man quickly whirled around and locked eyes with the woman on the bed.

“Oh? Oh,” he raised an eyebrow then lowered his voice. “I didn’t know hookers worked this early out here.”

“She ain’t a hooker,” Trevor growled through his teeth. “She’s my girlfriend. The fuck are you doing here?”

The stranger looked back and forth between Trevor and Effie then extended a hand in the woman’s direction.

“Michael, Trevor’s best friend. He never mentioned you,” he greeted. 

“Effie,” she ignored his handshake, crossing her arms over her chest. “Funny how he never mentioned you either.”

Michael blinked a few times and blew out air through his teeth with a nod. “Feisty. I can see why you might think you like her.”

Both Trevor and Effie made a face at the remark.

“Come on. It’s time for a boy’s night out anyway.Frankie’s not gonna be happy if he made the drive for nothing. You can get your cuddles in or whatever you do later,” Michael explained.

“How did you know where I was?” Trevor finally asked.

“I got Lester to track your phone when I didn’t find you at your trailer.”

Effie rolled her eyes. Trevor growled again and tossed the device onto the carpet then stomped on it a few times until the screen shattered then went dark. Michael snapped his fingers a few times in an attempt to rush his friend.

“Go wait outside, pork chop,” Trevor suggested as he shoved the man out the door. He turned back to the woman, letting his fingers trace over the pink marks she had left along his neck tattoo. Effie admired her work with a bashful smile.

“I guess you’ve got to go,” she quietly let out.

“I don’t  have to, but he won’t leave ‘less I do,” Trevor claimed. 

“If my best friend busted into my hotel room where I was spending time with my boyfriend, I’d tell them off.”

Trevor’s eyes lowered to the carpet and he barely nodded. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

He extended a pinky in her direction. She wrapped her pinky around his then he kissed her forehead and left the room. 


	14. Chapter 14

A cramp caught in his calf as Trevor stretched against his mattress.

“Fuck!” he cursed, blindly kicking out his pained leg and knocking something over. His eyes started to open but the sun pouring in through the window seared his gaze so he threw an arm over his face. As he breathed into the crook of his elbow, last night came rushing back to him. Throwing back drinks with Michael and Franklin. Franklin had brought so much marijuana to smoke. Throwing empty bottles into the sea and bickering with his pals. He had left Effie hanging. Effie had kissed him. She had kissed him. She was sober and no one had made her do it but she did it anyway. And he had left her hanging.

Trevor’s other hand flew to his mouth and gently rubbed his lips. The ghost of the kiss taunted his neglected skin. He bolted upright against the mattress with a scowl. It had to be the hangover. It had to have been a dream. 

He tossed back the thin sheet and pat around against the mattress.

“Where the fuck is it?” he groveled to himself before reality pinched his throat. He had smashed it. In the hotel room. After Michael had Lester track him down using the device, he had smashed it to bits. He slapped a hand to his forehead and groaned. Stupid, stupid, stupid...

“What’s the matter?” came Michael’s voice from the other room. Trevor staggered to his feet and threw open the raggedy bedroom door. Michael was rubbing the sleep from his eyes in a recliner by the counter and Franklin was stretching on the couch.

“Nothin’,” he lied. He stumbled into the bathroom. His mind swam as he relieved himself. He was hungover but not to the point of having been shit-faced. He had been there before. He wouldn’t be upright if he had gotten  too  trashed. So there was no way his mind was playing tricks on him, which would mean... He leaned over the sink to meet his reflection in the mirror. He pulled down the collar of his burgundy polo and the small, pink hickeys above his CUT HERE tattoo confirmed what he couldn’t quite piece together yet.

Trevor buckled up his pants and burst out of the trailer. Michael leaped to his feet, following his friend after clumsily toeing into his dress shoes.

“T!” Franklin called as he tugged on his tank top and joined the pursuit. 

“What’s the matter?” Michael pressed the issue, worried as he followed his friend through the yard and across the sandy street.

“Fuck off, pork chop. This is your fault,” Trevor barked over his shoulder.

“What’s my fault?” Michael scoffed. “I think you might be a little lost in the sauce, pal. I ain't done nothing! The hell is wrong with you?”

“I shouldn’t have left her last night,” Trevor said as he pushed into the dingy gas station across the street. The bell over the door chimed each time one of the three men shouldered inside the cool building. 

“Shouldn’t have left who?” Franklin asked.

“His girlfriend,” Michael answered with a laugh and a shake of his head.

“You ain’t tell me you had a girlfriend. Where you meet her, bruh?” Franklin asked, genuinely curious.

“We bumped into each other during a convenience store robbery,” Trevor explained as he approached the cash register. The cashier behind the counter raised his wispy white eyebrows at the statement. Trevor rolled his eyes and pulled out his wallet.

“I need a phone,” he ordered. The man bent beneath the counter then pulled out two separate devices encased in plastic. Trevor peered down at the flip phone then at the touchscreen before choosing the flip phone. 

“Are you still in the stone ages?” Michael complained.

“I won’t feel so bad smashing something like this next time,” Trevor shot over his shoulder as he handed the clerk a few green bills and swiped up the phone.

“So this girlfriend?” Franklin continued from an aisle over as he made himself a cup of coffee. The smell of the drink drew Michael and Trevor over to brew a cup of their own.

“Her name’s Effie. If that don’t tell you enough about her right there-“

Trevor elbowed his long time friend in the gut to shut him up.

“Just because you and Amanda haven’t had the best time doesn’t mean you get to SHIT all over me,” he growled through his teeth. Michael’s eyes darted all over his colleague’s face.

“You’re serious. You really like her?” he pried. “Tell me, T. Does she know you? The real you?”

“She knows enough for now. Why’s it any of yer business?” Trevor shot back, defenses up.

“Cause when I told Mandy the truth and had her uprooted from everything she thought she knew, she hated me.”

“Lucky for Effie, I don’t plan on takin’ any more scores or fakin’ my death,” Trevor growled.

“Enough. Fuck. You two kill me. Y’all can’t be happy for each other for two seconds?” Franklin interrupted their squabbling by stepping between the two men.

“I  am happy for him,” Michael claimed with a scowl. “I just wanna make sure he won’t make the same mistake as me and rush into something.”

“Your so-called mistake got you two kids and a big house. It ain’t all bad,” Franklin said. “When can we meet her?”

Trevor threw back his head and laughed out aloud. “You two? Meet Effie? Not in a million years.”

“What if y’all get married? You don’t want her to meet your best friends?” Franklin asked. The thought made Trevor’s pulse quicken. Marriage? Wasn’t that why people their age dated anyway? Wasn’t that the point? The endgame? To find someone to spend the rest of their miserable days with? Except... they didn’t feel so miserable with her. He remembered how nice it had felt to sit and just breathe beside her in the hotel room with the television on in the background as they waited for food. Food. Food that he had left her with to enjoy alone.

Trevor approached the register again and paid for their coffees before he hurried outside. He used his teeth to pry open the packaging around the phone.

“What’s Lester’s number?” he asked.

“Here,” Michael snatched the device and pressed a few buttons.

“Who is this?” came Lester’s nasally voice over the line a few moments later.

“Lester. I need a number,” he stated.

“Trevor. Who have you pissed off this time? This will be your second new phone number in two months.”

“No one. I need you to find someone’s number for me,” he urged.

“What for?” the man on the other end asked. 

“He’s got a girlfriend-“ Michael quipped before  Trevor jerked away, growling into his cup of black coffee. 

“I just need to get in contact with someone as quick as fuckin’ possible.”

“Five-hundred dollars.”

“Whatever. You got it.”

“If I had known you would be so willing, I wouldn’t have low-balled. What’s the name?”

“Effie. E-F-F-I-E. She lives out in Paleto Bay. She works at a hotel as a maid.”

He could hear fingers going to work on a keyboard on the other end of the phone.

“Got it. Sending it to you now. Send the money by ten.”

“Noon,” Trevor bargained. He could almost hear the man roll his eyes from the other side.

“Fine. Noon, but make it a thousand.”

Trevor flipped the phone shut and waited, grimacing at his curious friends.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your kind words. I thoroughly enjoy writing Trevor & although the GTA fandom isn’t as alive as it used to be, I just can’t leave it alone. :)

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve caught feelings for me,” Effie taunted with a wide grin. She had caught him staring at her as she scrolled on her cell phone. It wasn’t an ordinary stare. It was one of adoration mixed with the gaze of a lion preying on an unsuspecting gazelle. Trevor shrugged off her comment and propped an elbow on the bar counter beside them.

“I’ve caught a lot of things in this life. Bullets, charges, diseases, flights, but feelings ain’t one of em.”

“So you’re telling me you haven’t been running your brain ragged thinking about how I kissed you the other day?” Effie asked with a confident smirk.

“Mm not really. I’ve been busy...and not one-hundred percent sober, cupcake. Don’t get big-headed,” he quipped, lying through his teeth. The kiss had been driving him crazy. He found himself in front of a mirror, examining the love bites she had left all over his tattoo then daydreaming about when he would have the confidence to return the favor.

“Mkay,” she said.

“Mkay?” he echoed, brow quickly furrowing.

“If you say so. Okay,” she said with a shrug. She finished her glass of water and pushed away from the bar. She moved closer to the jukebox, toward the dancing crowd. It was Friday night and drinks were twenty-five percent off in The Hen House, drawing in folks to forget their stressors from the week. A few partygoers glanced her way and the circled opened then swallowed her whole. She danced by herself at first. He threw back his shot of vodka and watched her hips and legs poking out of her denim shorts as she bopped and dipped.

“You should go dance with her,” the bartender Blake spoke up as he refilled Trevor’s shot glass.

“I don’t dance. I don’t wanna get in her way,” his boss quickly said before bucking back his drink in one easy gulp.

“ _ If you wanna get to heaveeeeeen _ _..._” the jukebox sang as a soulful harmonica howled. He shook his head, eyes glued to the dancing woman. A perfect smile was plastered on her face as she moved. He was glad he had decided to rob THAT store on THAT day on his way home from Lester’s safe house. 

A male patron stepped up beside Effie and danced along with her, effortlessly catching her rhythm. She threw her head back and laughed as the man kicked up with his cowboy boots and enthusiastically yipped. Other dancers clapped and yipped, adding to the lively atmosphere. 

“Yee fuckin’ haw,” Trevor grumbled, smile fading as he watched the man. He twirled Effie around him to the song and wrapped an arm around her waist so the duo jigged side by side. Trevor had seen him before. He was a regular customer. He had a wife and a daughter. 

The territorial bone in his body made a low growl rumble in his chest as he watched. Finally, Trevor shoved away from the bar and marched across the stuffy room. He shouldered his way through the boisterous group and gently grabbed Effie by the wrist. He tried pulling her away from the man but she protested with a tug backward.

“I’m dancing,” she insisted.

“Yeah. She’s dancing,” her dancing partner added, standing between Trevor and Effie.

“Come on, Eff,” Trevor insisted over the man’s shoulder, trying his best to ignore the man despite the rush of testosterone now blasting through his veins. He didn’t want to make a scene in his own establishment. Everyone knew him. He was respected but right now, on the outside looking in, he had been drinking and was interrupting a woman who was just having a fun time.

“Think yer ol’ lady would like knowin’ you put yer hands all over this woman here?” Trevor let the threat quietly seep into the dancing man’s ear. He knew his wife. They had been users who bought from him but they had cleaned up their act a year ago. The man stepped back from Trevor and left the dancing circle. Effie rolled her eyes and started for the front doors. She needed some air. She stepped outside and drew in a deep breath as she swiped at the sweat on her forehead. Trevor stepped out of the humid business a few moments later.

“You done being an ass?” she snapped.

“An ass?” he shrieked. “He was havin’ a field day rubbin’ all over ya.”

“He wasn’t even- Are you jealous?”

“A little, yeah!” Trevor exclaimed, neck sweaty and eyes wide. Silence responded. A few drunks outside the bar burped and staggered about. Trevor let out a deep sigh then turned his head to the dark sky and shouted.

“FFFUUUUUUUCCCCKKKKK!”

“You’re jealous?” she asked again, voice much softer this time.

“Fuck yeah, I’m jealous. I dream about you. I wanna see you but I don’t wanna be a creep about it and come lookin’ or callin’ too often. Not to mention, I have so much fuckin’ work to do ALL the time. You deserve someone’s undivided attention and all I know how to do is fuck things up, so excuse me for bein’ jealous of every normal fuckin’ guy who you put a spell on!” he bellowed. She laughed that laugh that made his chest swell and ears burn pink at the top.

“Normal guy? What does that even mean?” she asked, eyes trained on him. A breeze moved her hair in her face but she tucked it behind her ear, never breaking eye contact. He blinked. He had just pulled his still-beating heart out of his chest, presented it on a bloody platter, and she hadn’t even bat an eyelash or run away screaming.

She slowly crossed the pavement and approached him. Nervous and tipsy, he staggered back against the brick wall of The Hen House. His amber eyes scanned her face for any trace of fear while beads of sweat lined his forehead. Effie leaned in close and pressed a small kiss against his lips. His breath hitched in his throat and he wheezed before wetting his lips and kissing her back before the moment ended with her pulling back just enough to speak.

“All you catch is bullets, charges, diseases, and flights, huh? No feelings?” she muttered. He swallowed hard, brow furrowed. She could feel his heart beating hard in his chest behind his thin, green Fort Zancudo t-shirt.

“If you ever lie to me like that again, you’ll never see me again. Okay?”

He deflated against the wall but nodded, both elated and meek.


	16. Chapter 16

Effie lifted a fist to knock on the front door of Trevor's trailer then paused. She squinted then gave the door a pull. She wasn't surprised when it swung open with ease.

"Come on. You've gotta start locking your door... before... someone... walks..." she trailed off as she eyed the pile of bloody, sandy clothes lying on the linoleum outside of the bathroom. Trevor's head poked out of the running shower to see who had just made their way into his lion's den of a trailer. What was left of a bloody handprint was smeared along his tanned cheek and there were specks of sand in his messy hair.

"Do I even wanna know?" Effie asked him as anxiety knotted in her stomach.

"Had to handle some work business," he stated before he disappeared back under the stream of hot water. With a frown, Effie put on two partially charred oven mitts and gathered the ruined clothes in her grasp before taking them outside. She scurried across the yard and tossed all the garments into the metal bin he used as a fire pit. When she pushed back inside the trailer, Trevor was buttoning up a pair of brown cargo pants and swiping up a pair of clean-ish looking boots.

"Look at you, dressing to impress," she chimed. He rolled his eyes as he buckled his belt.

"What are you doin' here? And why are you so dressed up?"

She grinned as his dark eyes danced over the floral print romper she had hurriedly tossed into the bottom of her suitcase just in case.

"Just tired of being in that damn hotel all the time," she complained.

"Then why am I payin' for a room?" Trevor quipped with a small pat to her backside as he brushed past her to find a shirt. "When did you wanna go back to Rose's, if at all?"

"My checkout is in two more days, so I guess then," she said with a sigh as she grabbed a glass and filled it with water. "I could probably talk the supervisor into more time since I am an employee."

"If you don't want to, you could always move into my place," Trevor explained.

"Yeah, right," she said with a sarcastic laugh. "I know we've been over the whole you being crazy thing before, but living together? I'm gonna need a couple more dates before we get there. And that's too long of a drive to make back and forth to work in Paleto Bay all the way from here-"

"Here?" he asked with a laugh as he finally caught wind of her revealing a hint of nervousness. "I can't have you in this shit hole bachelor pad. I bought a house."

"You what? Where?" she asked incredulously.

"In the bay. I needed somethin' closer to The Hen House. Y'know, in case somethin' happened and I was needed, but didn't wanna hit eighty on the freeway," he explained.

"You just wanted to be closer to me," Effie cheesed as she approached Trevor.

"Maybe," he smiled back. He quickly tucked his head and kissed her before he lost the nerve.

"About time," she whispered against his lips.

"Shut up," he muttered, gripping her chin and slipping his tongue into her mouth. He exhaled heavily through his nose, struggling to calm himself as he finally took the step he had been pondering over for days. She had been making the first move every time. The boogeyman was feeling like maybe she should take the title and be "boogeywoman" instead.

He walked his fingers around her waist and held her the closest he ever had. Her soft hands wandered over his nearly sunburnt shoulders until her arms wove around his neck. Trevor hoisted her at the waist, sitting her on top of the cluttered countertop and positioning himself between her thighs. He caught her bottom lip between his teeth and she fanned out her arms to clear off more counter space around them. He swiped at a pile of newspapers and the sound of glass breaking broke the two from their trance.

"Shit! What was that? I'm sorry," Effie let out. Trevor peered over the edge of the counter at the mess.

"Shit."

Effie eyed the glass flute now lying in several shattered pieces among the mess on the kitchen floor. Her stomach churned. Trevor watched her expression fall with a pit settling in his chest.

"You know I don't do that anymore," he quickly revealed in a desperate attempt to keep her grounded as the woman before him began to recoil into something he hadn't seen before. "I don't get 'round to cleanin' this place up much, but I promise it's been months."

"It's fine." Her glossy eyes met his and she hopped down off the countertop. "I need some air."

She brushed shoulders with him on her way out of the trailer. He gave her a moment to herself before he pulled on a baby blue polo and stepped outside. A humid breeze rustled the end of her romper around her thighs while she leaned against the porch railing with her eyes cast down the quiet street.

"When was the last time you were high?" she asked in a soft voice.

"Smoked a buncha pot with Franklin and Michael the other night," he explained.

"You know what I meant," she shot back over her shoulder.

"Last time I did meth was the day I showed up on your doorstep with Brett," he revealed.

"What about today? What about the shower and the bloody clothes?" she pressed on, bracing for the worst.

"That was me bein' me. I meant it when I said it was work business. Blake and Sandy caught a prick droppin' pills in women's drinks at my bar, so I took care of him," he explained. She closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh.

"I'd never put you in a situation where your past-" he started.

"It's fine," she said again as she flashed a shallow smile his way. "I was just worried... I didn't want you to, like, come down and not remember kissing me. I know how it can be up there. I used to wake up beside people I couldn't even remember meeting. I didn't wanna just be a thing or whatever."

"You ain't just a thing, Effie. Bein' around you? Now that's a high I could get used to," he murmured against her scalp as he hugged her from behind. "Besides, I gotta stay sober to spite your bitch of a roommate."

She chuckled and finally relaxed her shoulders.

"So about this house you say you bought..."

"Wanna check it out?" he asked.

"Don't you have something else to take care of first?"

"Oh right."

He wrapped her up in another deep kiss before she tugged him away by the ear as she giggled.

"We'll pick up where we left off another day. You gotta do something about those clothes," she said, cheeks pink and heart beating hard in her chest. Trevor swiped a box of matches up from the cluttered table in the corner of his porch and crossed the yard. Effie picked up a small canister of lighter fluid from the stairs and shook it to make sure it was filled. She rounded Trevor and squirted a bit of the flammable liquid onto the pile at the bottom of the barrel. Trevor struck a match along the side of the box and tossed it into the metal cylinder. A flame rose up between the two of them and the contents crackled as they burned. Trevor's brows knit together and a frown pulled at the corners of his mouth as he focused on the smoke rising from the controlled blaze.

"What's the matter?" she asked. He looked up and found her eyes on him. The light from the flickering flames danced on her face, teasing her full lips and dark gaze. He crossed his arms over his chest hard, hugging himself and furiously shaking his head.

"I just keep thinkin' what if it had been you. What if you drank whatever that fucker slipped in that glass and no one caught him. What he coulda done to you. Makes me sick to my stomach," he groveled. "What he coulda done to anyone."

She couldn't find the words, but he kept talking.

"If something ever happens to you, whether we're friends or whatever, I'm sorry. I ain't gonna be responsible for what I do to whoever after I find out."

"Nothing's going to happen to me, Trevor. You wouldn't let it."

The side of his mouth curled up into a smile.


	17. Chapter 17

“You sure you’re ready? The three of us together can get pretty crazy,” Trevor warned as they idled just outside of Choppers in East Vinewood. Effie rolled her eyes.

“If I can handle  _ you  _ alone, I’m sure I can handle the three of you. How many times do I have to tell you crazy is kinda my thing?” she asked. He put up his hands in surrender and popped open the passenger door. She cut the Mesa’s engine and the two walked up the sidewalk leading to the front doors.

“If I catch either of them staring too long, I’m knockin’ teeth down throats,” Trevor threatened as he looked over her in her burgundy maxi dress. “Why’d you get all dolled up anyway?”

“I wanted to look nice for you, you ass,” she shot, playfully clinging to his arm. “I wanna see how territorial you can get over just some wandering eyes.”

Trevor grimaced and led the way inside with a protective hand on her lower back. As they approached the hostess at her station, a whistle from a booth further into the restaurant caught their attention. Two men waved from their seats.

“Are those your friends?” the monotonous hostess asked.

“Unfortunately,” Trevor said, starting past the woman. “We’ll help ourselves.”

He whisked Effie across the room as a group of rowdy men entered the restaurant behind them. 

“So this is what it takes to get Trevor dressed up decent? Gotta get a beautiful woman involved,” Michael stood and extended a hand over the table. “Blink twice if you’re being held against your will, sweetheart.”

“Mmph. Nice to see you again,” Effie sarcastically greeted, finally shaking his hand. The other man stood and also extended a hand as he spoke.

“So you’re Effie? Name’s Franklin,” he introduced himself.

“Hello.”

Trevor ushered Effie into the booth to sit across from Franklin and he sat across from Michael. A waiter brought two more glasses of water and menus before disappearing across the bustling restaurant again. Trevor tugged at the itchy collar of the crisp red polo and Effie noticed the tag still on the inside of the fabric. She yanked it off and Trevor hurriedly stuffed it into one of his pockets. Franklin took a sip of water and Michael adjusted his cuff links. The three men were supposedly best friends but she knew it was her presence drawing out the shared silence, so she decided to speak first.

“Okay so if he’s the crazy one and he’s the asshole,” Effie pointed to Trevor and Michael respectively then to Franklin. “What’s that make you?”

“Asshole?” Michael quietly echoed.

“A dumbass who shoulda never stole a car outta Rockford Hills,” Franklin said. Effie’s eyebrow rose.

“Hey, if you’d have never stolen my son’s car then you wouldn’t have had the opportunities that landed you where you are today. How many businesses do you own now? Two?” Michael asked. His eyes were focused on a waitress serving drinks down the aisle.

“Three,  asshole ,” Franklin corrected him. “I just bought the mechanic shop out on Route 68.”

“That there’s a good spot, Frank. The previous owner was one of my neighbors,” Trevor said into his glass of water.

“Wait. You’re talking about the place across from that used car lot? I’ve rode past it so many times,” Effie replied.

“Oh yeah,” Franklin nodded. “Stop by and drop my name. My crew can hook you up with discounts on a new paint job, tires, whatever you need.”

“And if you want free drinks or food, stop at Tequi-La-La a few blocks west from here. I’ve had that place going about a year now,” Michael piped up.

“Look at all the free things you can get when you’re attractive. Oh the humanity,” Trevor chimed.

“Says the guy who has volunteered to pay literally all my bills since he met me,” Effie retorted, making Michael choke on his water.

“Jesus Christ, T. She got that tight a grip on your balls?” he asked.

“I don’t have a grip on anything since I still pay my own bills. Watch your mouth,” she said with a scowl. Franklin threw his head back and laughed, clapping his hands. Michael’s ears burned red. Trevor concealed a smirk, impressed and kind of turned on by her unwillingness to bow to his best friend’s antics or take any of it personally.

“For now,” he tried to tack onto the end of her statement.

“One of these days, I’ll end up taking you up on your offers and I don’t think you’re gonna know how to handle it,” she quipped. 

“Try me.”

“I will,” she said, picking up her water and taking a sip as her eyes bore into him. She was lying but she hid it well. She had too many questions about the three men and their large sums of money and until she had the right answers, she wouldn’t walk around with her hand out. She had gone this long without. She didn’t care about it.

“I see why you two hit it off,” Franklin said. “She don’t miss a beat. How’d you two meet?”

“He robbed a gas station while I was outside pumping my gas,” she interjected.

“THEN we bumped into each other again and she asked me to beat up her cheater boyfriend.”

“I didn’t ASK you a thing!”

“You may as well have. Then we just kept bumpin’ into each other over and over like the universe was tryin’ to show us something.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that? That trauma bonding exists and Stockholm syndrome is very real?” Michael asked with a huff.

“Oh totally. Trevor locks me in the basement of his strip club and feeds me bread crusts. He lets me out once a week. Please don’t let him lock me back in the basement tonight, Michael,” Effie toyed with Michael’s continuous jab at Trevor knowing her. Part of her was still agitated with how he had barged into her motel room and bogarted his way with Trevor after assuming she was a prostitute. 

“Alrighty. Claws away, miss lady,” Trevor intervened. “He gets on my nerves too, but we’re gonna play nice tonight.”

“What else are best friends for?” Michael asked, both his smile and arms wide.

“Back to the matter at hand, did I miss a ‘How to Become A Business Owner 101’ meeting?” she asked. The three men exchanged shifty glances with one another.

“We all came into some money and had sense enough to invest,” Franklin claimed.

“Came into some money? I clean motel rooms for a living. I won’t tell. I’m not the feds,” she urged. The waiter returned to the table with a notepad in his grasp.

“Are we ready to order?” 

“Err, give us another couple minutes,” Franklin suggested as he distributed the still stacked menus to his friends. The thin man nodded and scurried away.

“Long story short, we used to be bank robbers,” Michael said. “I’m surprised Trevor hasn’t told you that story.”

“I usually keep my nose out of other people’s business, but now I’m curious.” A smile covered her face and her eyes lit up. 

“Oh boy,” Trevor said with a groan.

“Over a year and a half ago, the bank by my house was robbed. Cops from all over San Andreas were called in to try and take down the culprits. I mean, the neighborhood was a mess for weeks after. I had so much overtime 'cause those apartments got trashed so the occupants filled the motel until their places got rebuilt. Was that you guys?” she asked, giving all the men a quizzical look. 

“Yeah but we ain’t see much of that money,” Franklin complained, bugging his eyes out at Mike.

“We got most of ours springin’ the Union Depository, sweet cheeks, but that’s a different story for a different day,” Trevor nonchalantly explained as though he were just reciting the weather.

“The U- The Union Depository?” she echoed, sheer surprise gripping her. “I’m supposed to believe the biggest bank robbery in history was committed by you three knuckleheads?”

“Well, we’re missin’ a few faces. They done took their cut and are living their lives, but yeah, that was us,” Franklin said. The three men seemed to beam as they reminisced.

“So this whole time you’ve been dating Trevor, you had no idea about his money?” Michael spoke up, leaning into the table to squint at her.

“You see, pork chop? She ain’t a gold digger,” Trevor jeered.

“I never said she was. I just don’t understand why someone like her would give someone like you the time of day.”

“What do you mean someone like me?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.

“The last woman that gave a shit about Trevor was the wife of a crime boss that he held hostage in his trailer for weeks,” Michael said.

“Ah, Mrs. Madrazo. Heard this one,” Franklin clapped a hand to his forehead.

“First of all,” Trevor interjected. “Patricia was collateral. If your buddy Martin didn’t pay us for our work, she-“

“Yeah, make it sound good for Effie. You weren’t gonna touch a hair on that woman’s head.”

“Should I be jealous?” Effie toyed as she bumped her shoulder against his. He loudly sighed and rubbed his eyes.

“Can we order some damn food?” he asked.

_ A couple of bites & drinks later: _

“Wait wait wait! So you’re telling me if Tracey wanted to date me, I’d have to be as mean as possible and scare her away? You really are an asshole, dude,” Franklin complained.

“You’re not dating my daughter! Stop eyeballing her!” Michael declared.

“Why not? Franklin’s a good guy, Mikey. Tracey’s an adult now. I’d sleep better at night if my niece were with him than some degenerate we don’t know. Least if he breaks her heart, we know where to find him,” Trevor proposed. Michael knowingly pointed as though he agreed and the two men clinked their glasses together. 

“Hardy har, y’all. I don’t like Tracey. I was just asking what-if,” Franklin concluded. “So Trevor, what happened to ‘never in a million years’?”

“Trying to change the subject to cover your own ass? What about it?” Trevor shot back. 

Franklin vaguely gestured to Effie by his side. She shot Trevor a quizzical look with a mouthful of pasta.

“It’s nothin’, it’s nothin’. You want dessert?” he asked her.

“I’d rather find out what your friend’s talking about,” she spoke up.

“Trevor said we wouldn’t meet you, not in a million years,” Michael stated with a slight slur as he sloshed a bit of whiskey from his glass. “But we must have time-traveled or something because here we are.”

“Change o’ heart,” Trevor said as he shoved a couple of French fries into his mouth. Franklin swallowed down a sip of his beer and cut into his steak.

“Not tryna be rude, but when Mike told me Trevor had a girlfriend, I for sure thought he meant, like, someone like him,” he admitted with a sheepish shrug.

“And what do you mean someone like him?” Effie asked.

“Crazy,” Michael and Franklin stated in unison.

“This one here  is  crazy. Take a gander at this,” Trevor grabbed Effie’s hand and flipped it over to reveal her scarred palm. “I got stabbed and she cold-cocked the fucker in the face with a glass bottle, no hesitation. She scares the shit outta me.”

“She scares you?” Franklin asked, clearly surprised. Effie’s ears burned as she blushed but found herself smiling at how eager Trevor had been to show her off. Michael lifted his glass of whiskey and suggested a toast. 

“To Effie and Trevor! May she tame him til his little heart is content,” he proposed. Franklin lifted his beer. Effie lifted her tea, still blushing.

“All three of ya will put me in an early grave,” Trevor grumbled as he lifted his beer. The group laughed at the remark as they touched glasses.

“Hey! Keep it down over there!” someone shouted and a chorus of boisterous laughter followed.

“You keep it down,” Franklin called over the divider. A moment later, beer was slung into their booth. Effie gasped as the cold drink doused her and her clothes, dripping from her hair and running down her arms. The lap of Trevor’s new denim jeans was wet as well. The rowdy men who had entered the restaurant behind the two of them laughed and jeered from a booth over. Michael, Trevor, and Franklin froze, wide eyes on one another. 

“What the FUCK?” Effie shrieked. She swiped up her plate and drink and quickly slid from the booth, just barely out of Trevor’s grasp as he tried to take her arm. Effie approached the noisy booth neighboring theirs.

“Which one of you threw the drink?” she quickly asked with a forced grin. A few of the men pointed at the lanky blond wearing sunglasses inside. He pulled them off then tucked them into his hair, his eyes meeting Effie.

“Hey stranger,” he greeted. Seeing Brett again made her chest grow tight. A grin etched across his face and Effie sloshed her tea right at his smug expression, dousing his face with the beverage. As the friend beside him stood, she pushed her plate into his chest and smeared it around until penne pasta clung to his shirt and the plate clattered to the floor.

“You know this bitch?” the friend asked Brett as he shoved Effie backward and swiped at the mess she had left on his shirt. Before Effie could charge back to the table, Michael, Trevor, and Franklin separated her from the group. 

“Now what did I tell you?” Trevor asked as he eyeballed Brett. It took Brett a second to recognize and remember he was the man who had broken his nose months ago. His eyes widened and he shrank back into his seat, pulling his friend with the pasta shirt down with him. Michael stepped forward and pressed his fingertips into the table as he leaned over the interruptive group.

“Which one of you wants to pay for our meal?” he asked. 

“We ain’t paying for shit,” the pasta shirt shot back. Brett warily eyed Trevor just over Michael’s shoulder as he bared his teeth and slowly dragged his thumb over his CUT HERE tattoo.

“I’ll pay it,” Brett shakily volunteered over his friend’s bickering.

“You better tip the servers too,” Franklin added. He flagged down a waiter and told them about the situation.

“Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Brett’s friends began to hound him. “Fuck these guys.”

“Fuck you,” Effie managed to hiss over Trevor’s shoulder. He picked her up and slung her over his shoulder, still cursing and seething.

“You’re like an angry chihuahua,” Trevor said as he carried her through the restaurant. Effie scowled at Franklin as he laughed and followed them outside. 

“I thought Trevor had anger issues. You might have him beat, little lady,” Michael remarked. Once they were outside, Trevor let Effie down. She pursed her lips as she swiped at her damp hair. Franklin’s phone started ringing in his pocket.

“It’s Lamar. I’ll catch up with y’all later. It was cool meetin’ you, Effie,” he said. She bumped his extended fist. They watched him climb onto a green motorcycle and take off down the street.

“I reckon it’s time I get Effie home before she tries to murder someone,” Trevor said. She hated smelling like beer. She pulled open the passenger door and plopped down in the seat. She reached to stick the key in the ignition and start the car. She watched the two men exchange words for a bit longer before Michael turned away from Trevor and started for his black sedan. Trevor stood cemented in place for a few moments before he turned around with a small smile on his face. He climbed into the driver’s seat.

“What happened?” Effie asked.

“Didn’t think that ass hat knew how to think of anyone besides himself,” Trevor said. “He thinks you’re a nice girl when you’re not trying to bite someone’s head off and said I better take care of you before I die an old, lonely man.”

“Well, you heard him. Take care of me. Take me home,” she ordered. Trevor looked over at her expectantly.

“Please,” she added sweetly.

“That’s not what I’m waitin’ on,” he said. She paused for a second, pondering, then reached back for her seatbelt. She buckled the latch across her lap.

“Thank you,” he said as he pulled away from the curb to drive back north. 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Temperamental, overbearing, yet protective Trevor must be protected at all costs. Yeah, I said it.

“This is nice,” Effie whispered as she laid across the bare bedroom mattress and looked up at the ceiling painted a pale yellow. “Very quiet.”

“And you don’t have to follow any dumbass rules from any dumbass roommates,” Trevor chimed in from the bathroom across the hall. He leaned over the sink to get a closer look at himself in the mirror as he dragged a razor over the shaving cream and stubble on his face. He was beyond ecstatic to have her living in his house, but decided to play it calm, cool, and collected.

“How often will you be here?” she asked.

“How often you want me here?” he shot back. She could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Three days a week, at the least,” she answered then shrugged. “I mean, it’s your place. You can do what you want.”

“Sounds like someone’s attached,” he taunted. 

“Hey now. All it takes is one night sleeping in the same bed and you’re gonna want to be here with me all the time on your own accord. Watch.”

“I don’t doubt it at all, sweet cheeks.”

She rolled onto her stomach and eyed the stack of brown cardboard boxes full of her belongings in the corner waiting to be unpacked. She had to go to work in an hour so she was in no rush, but she was still giddy to be under a different roof. Away from Rose. With Trevor. She had never felt safer until this moment. As she rolled back over, there came a knock on the front door. She just barely heard Trevor mutter in irritation.

“I got it!” She hurried down the hall and opened the front door to find Rose standing on the porch of the one bedroom house. Her face was flushed and she was still wearing her work scrubs. Effie stepped outside and quietly shut the door behind her.

“Rose, what-“

“I had to hear about you moving from the neighbors. You snuck all your things out while I was at work? I thought we were friends. You know what it felt like to come home to half the furniture suddenly missing? I thought we were robbed!” Rose huffed. Effie threw up her hands.

“Do you know what it feels like to live with a person who lied to you and someone you care about while smiling in your face?” Effie shot back.

“All of this over some flowers?” Rose exclaimed.

“It’s not just about the flowers and you know it.”

“I was trying to protect you. Trevor’s insane and unstable. I didn’t want to see anything bad happen to you.”

“I can handle it, trust me.”

“But don’t you think we should’ve talked about it first? Came to some sort of agreement? I mean, how am I supposed to make rent this month?”

Trevor had heard enough from his hidden place on the other side of the front door. He wanted this place to be his peace and hers too. He wiped the leftover shaving cream from his face and tossed the towel somewhere over his shoulder. He finally turned the knob and revealed himself, propping an arm up along the side of the door. Effie sighed.

“Long time, no see, ice queen. What’re you doin’ here?” he greeted with a wide grin that showed all of his teeth and made Rose take a step back.

“I was just talking to Effie. This is between me and her,” she explained.

“Yeah well you’re disturbing the peace at  my house over  your rent. How much was Eff’s half for this month?” he asked.

“Trevor...” Effie stood just in front of him to keep him at bay from the woman he disliked.

“It’s not just about the rent. I need to speak with my friend alone. Can’t you wait inside?” Rose shot over Effie shoulder.

“Rose...” Effie shifted her warning as she felt the body heat rolling off of Trevor’s frame as he joined the two of them outside.

“If it’s not just about the rent, then what’s the other issue? Me?” he urged, jabbing a thumb into his own chest. 

“She just wanted to see if I was doing okay, didn’t you, Rose?” Effie interrupted in hopes of dispelling Trevor’s growing and very visible agitation. Rose didn’t say anything, cheeks pink as her anger grew but she chewed her tongue. She knew not to push anymore buttons.

Trevor disappeared inside with a slam of the door, making both Effie and Rose jump.

“THAT’S what you want to live with now?” he heard Rose ask aloud as he started for the back of the house. He marched into the bedroom and jerked open the closet in the bedroom. He dropped to his knees and wrenched out one of the panels to reveal a hiding spot in the wall. 

“This is endin’ now,” he grumbled as he reached into a military green bag before he loped back to the women outside. Effie placed her hands on his shoulders as he tried to brush past.

“She’s leaving! Rose is leaving,” she quickly let out. 

“Here!” Trevor barked at the woman halfway down the sidewalk. Rose stopped and turned just as he threw what he had retrieved from the closet. Two stacks of money smacked against her side and she caught them against her chest, eyes wide. She looked around nervously.

“I don’t want your meth money-“ Rose started up.

“What a shame. That should cover a few months. Stay the fuck away from my house,” Trevor ordered. Effie’s jaw dropped. Without another word, he pushed back into the house and plopped down on the pastel orange sofa in the living room. 

Effie came inside a few minutes later and stood on the other side of the coffee table with her hands on her hips. She didn’t speak until Trevor lifted his head from the back cushion and opened his eyes.

“You didn’t have to do that. You shouldn’t have done that,” she said with a shake of her head.

“So I was supposed to stand back and let her tear you a new one?” he asked, brow furrowed.

“She wasn’t tearing me...” she let out a deep breath to calm herself before she flopped down on the cushion beside him and swung her legs across his lap. She grabbed his strong chin and made him look at her. “Thank you for taking up for me, okay?”

“That’s better,” he said with a small nod.

“So where’d the money come from?”

“I keep it in a bag in the closet,” he said with a shrug.

“Why not put it in a bank? What if the house gets robbed?” she asked and he let out a boisterous laugh.

“Okay I realize how dumb that sounds, but you never know. You won’t be here with me all the time either,” she said.

“Then I guess ol’ Uncle T will just have to be here more, huh?”

“Ugh,” she groaned. “I hate when you call yourself that.”

“You got something better?”

“Baby,” she suggested with a smile. Blood pooled in his cheeks at the unfamiliar nickname.

“You’re blushing. You must like it,” she teased.

“Alright, alright. Watch it. Don’t you have to get ready for work now?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I work retail & my job is still open despite all of the COVID-19 news. My state just got a confirmed positive test in the county where I work. Writing has been helping me deal & de-stress with it all, but my anxiety is still off the charts. Be safe everyone. <3


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheers to the notepad app for allowing me to write fic behind the register at work in an effort to maintain my sanity. & you guys! Thank you for the constant kind words! It means the world to me :)

“Why aren’t you afraid of me?”

Effie paused at the stove and turned just enough to find Trevor standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

“Can we start the evening with a ‘how was work?’ instead?” she proposed.

“We can share formalities after.”

“Well, why should I be afraid of you? You’ve got a soft spot for me,” she answered as she shot him a wink. Trevor scratched his head then shuffled his feet. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Just thinkin’ of Rose and her visit the other day,” he muttered. She stepped away from the stove and approached where he was standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

“I think you’re handsome,” she grabbed his chin, sturdy from taking fists to the face, and gave it a little wiggle. She looked him right in his amber eyes then let her gaze drop to his lips. His bottom lip fell open just a bit as he let out a short breath, taken back by her constant boldness. He was sure he would never grow accustomed to it, and the compliment made his ears burn.

“I feel safe when you’re around,” she continued, running a hand down his torso and resting her touch on one of his belt loops. She gave him a jerk, pulling his solid frame flush against hers. Trevor’s breath caught in his throat. 

“Rose was right though,” he managed to rumble, his eyes darting all over her face to gauge her reaction. 

“Do you take her word over mine?” she shot back with a squint of her eyes. “I’ve watched people overdose and been near death myself. You’re not the grim reaper, no matter how scary you think you are. I should be asking you why do you like me?”

Both of his rough hands slipped around her and hugged her close. She looked up at his scarred face with big puppy dog eyes and bat her eyelashes.

“When you do the things I do, normal is refreshing. Everything slows down when you’re around. I don’t wanna beat the livin’ shit out of people or things when I know I’m gonna see you. You don’t run away from me like everyone else does,” he explained.

“Well that’s too bad for them cause they’re missing out on one hell of a kisser,” she said. A grin broke out across his face and he gathered her in a sloppy kiss, noses and teeth bumping into one another. Effie’s hands skittered under his shirt and tugged until he jerked it over his head. She rubbed and admired the tattoos about his torso as best she could without breaking where their lips connected. She could feel his heart racing as her fingers traced over the newest addition, FUCK COPS scrawled across the top of his abdomen. 

Trevor grabbed her waist and lifted her to sit on the counter. Her legs wrapped around his waist and her ankles locked around his lower back. He lowered his mouth to her neck, desperate to finally get a taste of her. The light film of salty sweat along her neck from cooking in the humid room danced on his tongue as he poked and swiped until he found the spot that made her press the heels of her feet into his butt, urging him closer. His teeth grazed her windpipe and she visibly shivered, biting back a moan by clenching her jaw. That wasn’t enough. He wanted to hear what she sounded like. 

Just as he unbuttoned her jeans and started tugging them down the long legs still capturing him about his waist, the timer on the stove started its annoying ringing.

“Mm fffffffuck,” he cursed under his breath.

“Trevor, I gotta get the food-“ Effie finally dropped her legs and wiggled off the counter as he took a couple of steps back. She slipped on an oven mitt before she pulled the glass dish out of the hot oven. The baked potatoes sizzled in their aluminum wrappings. 

“Maybe we can pick up where we left off while it cools-“

Someone knocked on the front door from the neighboring living room. Trevor let out a deep breath and gathered up his shirt that had been strewn across the small table in the corner. Effie hurried past him, buttoning her pants and situating herself before she unlocked the door to greet the visitor.

“Housewarming party is here!” Michael announced as he shouldered past. Effie moved out of the way as Franklin stepped onto the porch with a case of beer and his dog, Chop, at his ankles.

“Hope you don’t mind that we came a lil early,” he said.

“Not at all,” Trevor jeered, a hint of annoyance in his tone as he slammed the front door.

“Something smells good!” Michael said as he disappeared into the kitchen. 

“I put together dinner,” Effie said.

“Hope it’s better than anything Trevor’s ever made,” he called back. Trevor pressed a palm to his forehead and quietly hissed through his teeth. 

“Any other time, they’re professionals at being late,” he muttered. She hugged him about the waist and searched for his gaze as agitation sent his eyes to scan the room.

“You can kick em out, you know? This is your house,” she whispered.

“ Our house,” he corrected her before joining the men in the kitchen. “Hey! Did you wash your fuckin’ hands first?”


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sinful sunday.

“And just like that, I’m right back in a hotel,” Effie complained. She and Trevor were waiting in line as the receptionist chatted with another visitor. Trevor hiccuped and teetered on his feet until she caught him by the hand. He laced his fingers with hers and gave her hand a squeeze. 

“Keep it together,” she whispered, squeezing back. 

“I’m the king of togetherness,” he let out before letting out a series of deep belches. A few of the night goers littering the lobby looked their way as the sounds Trevor made bounced around the wide, beige lobby. The visitor in line before them finally walked away with their belongings in tow. 

“Can I book one room for the night?” Effie asked the clerk as she approached the counter and struggled to keep Trevor out of the way. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and hugged her close, his face in her neck. He was heavier than usual, the alcohol making his movements uncoordinated and his breath came out in brutish grunts.

“You smell so good. What is that?” he asked. The clerk blinked away from the drunk man clinging to the woman and typed away on his computer. 

“Eff, you hear me? What is that, baby?” Trevor repeated. Effie winced and staggered away from the heavy smell of the whiskey on his breath. The people around probably thought they were both drunkards. She felt more like a babysitter. She had joined Trevor and his two closest friends for another night of dinner. They had all had something to drink but Trevor took it a step further and got so shit-faced that Effie had to coerce him down from dancing on top of their private table as restaurant security watched from afar. 

“It’s passion fruit perfume and a little bit of margarita spilled on my dress,” she answered Trevor as he continued his sniffing. She grabbed his wrist as he started to wander off across the quiet lobby of the West Vinewood hotel. He snapped his arms back around her and kissed the back of her neck. 

“Mmmpassionfruit,” he muttered. “I don’t feel mmph... good.” 

“Is one bed okay?” the clerk spoke up as he pushed his glasses up his nose. 

“One bed’s fine,” she let out, exasperation growing. She felt like she was wrestling with a restless child as he suddenly turned his mouth to the ceiling and howled. She clapped a hand over his mouth then retrieved his wallet from his back pocket. She handed the receptionist one of Trevor’s new debit cards. It didn’t take much convincing for her to get him to open a bank account and at least deposit some of his money instead of sitting in a closet. 

“Can we speed this up?” she pleaded. 

“I have you in room 401. You can check out...uh, whenever you wanna wake him up, but if you find yourself needing to extend your stay beyond three o’clock tomorrow evening, just use the phone in your room and dial 888. Thank you for choosing the Von Crastenberg,” the clerk handed her a key card. 

“Thank you so much,” she quickly let out. She gave Trevor’s thick wrist another tug and pulled him over to the elevator. The metal doors opened and a group of men and women in fancy three-piece suits shot them looks of disapproval as they filed out past. 

“Mhm. Yeah. Goodnight,” she hissed at them as she hurried into the elevator and pushed the button labeled 4. The number 3 lit up and she groaned. The elevator dinged as the doors shut and they slowly glided upward. 

“Hey,” Trevor said as he rested his head on her shoulder. 

“Mhm?” 

“I think I love you,” he said before he started laughing. Effie’s face grew hot but she quickly shook her head. He was just drunk. 

“I like you too,” she said. 

“That ain’t what I said,” he reiterated. The elevator stopped on the third floor and a woman boarded with a suitcase. Trevor darted past her and down the hallway. 

“Trevor! This isn’t our floor!” Effie hissed as she struggled to run after him in her wedges. He stopped beside a fake potted plant in a dim corner. 

“I gotta piss,” he grumbled as he tugged his tucked polo out of his pants then pulled down his zipper. 

“Jesus...” Effie turned her back to him and slapped a palm to her forehead as he relieved himself with a musical sigh. 

“One day, we should double date with Mikey and Amanda,” he let out a wicked laugh. “Show em how a real couple does it. You gotta meet her. She could take a few pointers from you.” 

“Oh yeah?” she muttered, cheeks growing red. She looked up and down the quiet hall, waiting for someone to happen upon them and throw them out. Once she heard him zip up his pants, she gripped his arm and pulled him back toward the elevator. He bit his lip and flexed against her grip. 

“Easy tiger. You can have your way with me once we get to the house,” Trevor said. 

“We’re not going home tonight,” she explained. 

“Why not?” he asked, peppering kisses along the side of her face. She watched the numbers light up along the wall. 

“We got a hotel room cause I was not gonna try and make that drive back out there with you like this,” she explained, prying his tough grip off her waist. “We’re gonna get some coffee in you when we get upstairs. It’ll sober you up a little.” 

“I need a cigarette,” he absentmindedly pat down his pants pockets. 

“Come on,” she tugged him into the elevator when it finally arrived. “You told me you quit smoking cigarettes years ago.” 

“Right right right,” he said with a nod. “Disgusting habit.” 

She looped an arm around his lower back to hold him upright as the elevator finally hit the fourth floor. Room 401 was the first door on the left. 

“Convenient!” he remarked. He gathered her hand in his and helped her tap the key card against the automated lock. 

“Hotels in Paleto Bay are outdated,” he added as she led him inside their room. He swiped on the light switch and marched into the middle of the neat room to look around then immediately started untying his boots. She tucked the key card onto the top shelf of the empty closet then bolt locked the door to their room. She didn’t need him to wander anywhere else in this state. He tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it across the chair. 

“I wanna sleep next to you,” Trevor said as he fell over while trying to peel off his cargo pants. 

“You can but we gotta take a shower first.” 

“I don’t wanna take a shower first. Uh oh.” 

Effie froze as she stepped out of her shoes. “What’s wrong?” 

“Oysters...” Trevor clutched his stomach before rushing into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. He hunched over the toilet before his stomach heaved and he retched. Effie winced then took a seat on the edge of the large bed. She listened to him vomit then it was silent. She shook her head. She knew it was coming, but she had hoped the shower would come before he puked and that it would soothe the beast. He had made a glutton out of himself at the restaurant. 

A few minutes of silence passed before she crept over and knocked on the bathroom door. 

“You okay?” she asked. An incoherent mutter responded. 

“I need a minute,” he mumbled. He pushed his head against the cool porcelain and let out a low groan. 

"Trevor?" she called. "I can't take this smell anymore. I gotta shower." 

Silence answered. She started peeling off her dress which was stained with tequila Franklin had sloshed around in his glass. She pushed into the small room and found Trevor curled around the base of the toilet, eyes closed and snores rumbling in his chest.

* * *

When Trevor finally cracked open his eyes, he was no longer on the bathroom floor and his surroundings weren't spinning. 

“Thank fuck,” he quietly muttered. He pushed the thick duvet away from his face and scanned the dim room. Burgundy curtains covered the floor to ceiling windows with the sun fighting to try and peak through from across the room. His pants were strewn across the fancy chair in the corner. The air condition blasting across the room made the other side of the blanket cold. Trevor closed his eyes and tried to recall the night’s events. 

Boonaroo Place. Lobster and oysters. Lots of oysters. Whiskey. Effie arm wrestling with Franklin. He had a shouting match with Michael before more and more whiskey. Effie pulling him down from the tabletop. More whiskey? A potted plant? 

The mattress shifted and he watched his girlfriend roll until her back was facing him then he heard her quiet snores resume. He wouldn’t have made it into a bed without her. Ordinarily, he would have been passed out under a bridge with cars passing by or in an empty alley, and wouldn’t be awake for another couple of hours. Instead, he was in a comfortable bed in a quiet room with a beautiful woman beside him. It almost didn’t feel real. 

He reached out to touch her, running his pointer finger down her spine. She moved just slightly and goosebumps dotted where he touched. 

“Good morning to you too,” she groggily muttered. He scooted closer and pulled her close to spoon against him. She nestled into his warm frame, eyes still closed. He took her face in his hand and turned so he could kiss her cheek. 

“Mmph no. Your breath smells like whiskey and puke,” she complained. 

“Don’t move!” Trevor quickly let out, leaping from the bed. She peeked an eye open in time to see him dash into the bathroom across the room. 

Trevor popped the top off one of the hotel’s small, complimentary bottles of mouthwash by the sink then swished it around his mouth before spitting it out and dashing back into the room. When he got back in the bed, Effie was on her back with the covers pulled up to her chin. She was reaching for the remote to turn on the television. He cut her off with a kiss. 

“Thank you,” he said against her lips. She tucked her chin to speak and look at him with a puzzled expression. 

“What for?” 

“This mighta been the first time I ever got drunk and didn’t wake up in a gutter,” he revealed. 

“I should have left you on the sidewalk the first time you fell over after we left the restaurant,” she swiped at the red abrasion on his chin and he winced. He hadn’t even noticed. 

“You couldn’t if you tried. You don’t have a single mean bone in your body,” he said. 

“That, and I don’t think I’d be able to live with myself if something happened to you after I left you there.” 

“Something happen to  _me_ ? Do you know who I am?” he asked as a laugh danced on the edge of his voice. 

“The boogeyman,” she taunted before she pulled him back in for another drowsy kiss. “I’m glad Mike isn’t here to cock block us. I dunno if I could forgive him for a third time.” 

Trevor’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. 

“Eff, are you sure-“ 

“Do I have to do all the work?” she sighed. She folded back the blanket then shoved him flat against the mattress and straddled him at the waist. As she kissed down his neck, she ground her pelvis down on the erection slowly starting to strain against his leopard print briefs. She grabbed Trevor’s hands and pinned them down on either side of his head as he looked on in disbelief. He caught a glimpse of a smirk on her face before he felt her teeth pulling on his earlobe. 

“Not there, sweetheart. I’ll finish in no time and be useless,” he complained as he began to pant. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as she kissed by it and settled on peppering kisses along his CUT HERE tattoo. He recalled how warm and soft she felt the first time she had kissed him there back in the small motel room in Paleto Bay. Then again in the kitchen at the house. She had sounded like a tease and a taste of heaven. He turned his neck to bury his face in her hair. She smelled so good. His dick uncomfortably throbbed beneath the fabric. It had been too long. He couldn’t take it any more. 

“C’mere,” he snarled before effortlessly freeing himself from her grasp and tossing her to the mattress. He slid over her frame and kissed her full lips, grinding his print into her black panties.  She slipped a hand past the waistband of his underwear and grabbed his thick erection, causing a stutter to topple his movements. His need for friction was making him delirious. 

“Please, Effie. I...” he suppressed a growl by balling his lips around his teeth. He hated how desperate he suddenly sounded. She was eating it up.

“What is it?” she asked between kisses on his throat. He could hear the taunt in her tone and the humiliation he felt made his dick twitch hard. He tucked his face into her neck and ran his teeth along her flesh. With an airy gasp, she let go of his dick to run her fingers through his thin hair. He tongued that sensitive spot just under her jaw until she was the one squirming. One of her legs hooked behind his back and pulled him closer than he was ready for. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say yer tryna make me beg,” he whispered in her ear to which she bit her bottom lip. 

“You caught me,” she revealed. Her boldness made his breath catch in his throat. 

“Well...” he supported his weight on the balls of his hands and looked down at her. “When I’m done with you, you’ll be the one beggin’.” 

The threat sent a tingle up her spine right as he pulled away. She groaned at the lack of body heat as he kissed down her body before he hooked his fingers around the elastic of her panties. Watching the tattooed man who often sought to make sure she was and would be alright finally undo her sent her heart racing in her chest. His amber eyes were wild, dark, and trained on her as he worked the fabric past her knees and ankles before he tossed it across the room. He parted her legs and began kissing up her thighs  until he met her hot center. She hooked her legs over his shoulders and pressed her feet into his tanned back, pulling him closer. He buried his face in her smooth muff, one hand on her hip and the other slipping into his underwear to stroke himself. Effie let her head fall into the pillows then moaned aloud as her nails dug into his shoulders and neck.

He had never been so content. Finally. He hummed against her sensitive bits then loudly slurped around as his tongue explored every millimeter of her core. Her mouth dropped open and she wormed her hips against his face and nose. The tug of her fingers on his hair sent him spiraling. The feel of his callouses against his own dick kept jarring him from ecstasy. He held on tight, holding her waist and stroking himself faster. 

“Tre-Trevor... Right there,” she warned,d eyes closing and a shaky pant settling in her lungs as an orgasm grew near. He marveled at the sounds and the feeling of her knees tightening around his head. She gripped the wide hand on her waist and shivered. The sound of her getting off made his knees weak and his legs started to give way against the mattress as he came in his underwear with a series of shudders, but he refused to pull away from her pussy yet. He gripped her so tight he knew she would bruise but she didn’t seem to mind as she was preoccupied with coming right on his tongue. She sounded magnificent, he thought to himself. 

“Jesus,” she managed to get out, finally using her tingling hands to tug him away by his wild hair. He wiped the glistening mess from his mouth with the back of his hand before he pulled himself to his feet. Effie pulled him close and kissed him, getting a taste of herself on his lips. 

“Think I mighta found  my new favorite snack,” he murmured. She pulled at his underwear and got a good look at his softening erection then pouted.  


"Sorry, babe. Got a little too excited," he said, disappointed with himself. "Gimme a second."

Trevor's cell phone rang from the pocket of his pants across the room. Effie's could be heard vibrating in her purse. The two of them let out groans.

"Fuck," Effie muttered, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. The tingly feeling beneath her waist was finally starting to subside. Trevor retrieved his phone and frowned at the screen.

"Yeah Sandy? ...alright. Put the busted keg in the back office. No, someone will steal it from the alley. I'll be there in a bit." He let out a deep sigh and looked over at Effie as she hung up from her own call.  "Motel?"

She nodded and slowly pushed to her feet. "Gotta cover a shift tonight. I guess we better hit the road."

Trevor stopped her on her way to the bathroom and kissed her forehead. She looked up at him, still wearing a pout.

"I know, I know. Next time though, I wont go so easy on ya," he purred.

"I'll be waiting, boogeyman." 


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my PS4 broke after i posted my last update. literally stopped turning on or would turn on & immediately power off. luckily, managed to buy a new console before the non-essential stores closed. unluckily, i had all my game save data in the console storage instead of the cloud, so guess who has to start ALL her games ALL over again?

“Come outside, Philips!”

The doors across the room flew in and several men stalked inside. Effie turned on her stool to look to the interruption. A handful of men wearing leather jackets and greasy jeans stood in the doorway. The Hen House regulars sat still in their table seats, their tired eyes darting from the bar to the interruption. Trevor didn’t even turn around to look or stop taking a sip from his bottle of Pisswasser. Sandy’s eyes widened and her hands flew under the bar to free the shotgun from its hiding spot fastened against the wood. Trevor grabbed the bartender’s wrist and shook his head.

“Hun, what did you do?” Effie quietly asked.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, almost sounding bored. He belched before he slipped from the stool and stalked across the quieting room. 

“Get the fuck outta my bar,” he hissed at one of the men as he shouldered through the crowd. He pushed through the agitated looking men and beckoned for them to follow him outside. He shut the doors to the Hen House behind him and backed out onto the street, eyes carefully scanning the bikers tactfully surrounding him. A few of the men steadily advanced, one at a time in a staggered line. One of them had a metal pipe in their grasp. He swung fast, just barely missing Trevor as he quickly ducked backwards.

“It’s a part-ay!” Trevor howled, his blood starting to rush in his ears. Another man swung at him, catching him in the jaw with brass knuckles. Trevor buckled and stumbled before composing himself and punching the man with a right hook then an immediate left hook. He could feel the attacker's nose shatter beneath his blow. 

A minivan skidded to a stop and the woman driving blew on the horn as the fight crept into the painted median of the street. A burly man tackled Trevor right against the side of the woman's van. Trevor yanked the man's leather vest over his head before kicking him away. The one with the pipe swung and busted the passenger window, just barely missing Trevor as he lunged out of dodge. The woman screamed and sped off into the night. He swung the pipe again, catching Trevor across the shoulders. A man yelled from across the street for the group to break it up.

“Shut the hell up or you’re next!” one of the intruders barked.

"Fuck you, Philips!" another barked.

Trevor fell against the concrete, catching himself in the pieces of shattered glass. His elbows stung. All it took was a second on the ground and the angry men had him surrounded. He was outnumbered, tired, and too sober to ignore the blows. They swung with pipes and brass knuckles, kicked with their boots and cursed at him as they beat him into the concrete. He tried to steady himself on his hands and knees until the toes of a boot caught him in the nose. His eyes blurred with tears and he grit his teeth.

Sandy pulled open one of the Hen House doors and fired a round from the shotgun into the air. She reached into her pocket, making sure they all saw her reload the gun with a bright red round before she pointed it their way.

“Get on or else I’ll make sure one of y’all won’t get off the ground,” she threatened. Effie wielded a metal baseball bat by her side. She caught sight of the mess that was a disheveled Trevor on the ground but kept an intimidating face. The men backed away from where Trevor knelt on the concrete. 

“That all ya got?” he asked the men as he staggered to his feet. As he spoke, blood spilled out of his mouth and stained the front of his dirty white shirt. 

“I remember you, bitch,” one of the men said, pointing to Effie with a scowl. The side of his face was discolored and scarred. “Count your days.”

Most of his attackers kept their eyes on Sandy's shotgun as they climbed into a black and red van then disappeared down the street. Trevor chuckled as he spat blood on the sidewalk. Effie, horrified and fighting panic that made her hands want to tremble, looked at him as he slowly limped back inside of the bar. His right eye was already swollen shut. The blood from his nose and mouth all ran together and dripped to stain his pants. 

“You just keep pissin’ off them Lost fellers, huh?” a patron asked as they passed. Trevor nodded and quietly growled under his breath. The others drank quietly or pretended to busy themselves with billiards, cards, or dominoes to keep from staring. 

Sandy hurried around the bar to stow away the gun and baseball bat. Trevor plopped back onto the stool. As though nothing had happened, he finished the rest of the beer with one gulp. Effie stared at the man beside her. He put up a finger to stop her as she fixed her lips to speak.

“I’m fine,” he insisted, voice coarse with pain. She scoffed, shaking her head back and forth, blinking quickly with disbelief.

“You’re FINE?” she echoed. She had to look away as he wiped away blood from his nose with the bottom of his shirt again. There seemed to be  so much of it. Sandy filled a glass with ice water and offered it over. He pressed it against his swollen eye.

“Lemme get a whiskey,” he rapped his busted knuckles on the counter. Sandy sent Effie a hesitant glance before doing what she was told. Trevor chugged down the drink and grimaced at the burning sensation it left in his chest.

“Come patch me up, Eff?” he suggested as he stood again and started for the door marked Employees Only. 

“Holler if anyone else shows up,” he instructed Sandy. Effie followed him to the back office bathroom where the two of them had gotten bandaged up before. 

He pulled the ruined shirt over his head as he flopped himself down on the toilet seat lid. He held the fabric to his nose and let out a long sigh. She stared at the bright red welt across his back that would surely give way to an eventual bruise to match the ones dotting his chin.

“Now I gotta add someone else to my shit list,” he revealed.

“Like Hell you do. You're beat to pieces," she remarked. She blotted at his busted lip with a wet washcloth.

"This ain't nothin', sweet cheeks," he said with a small wince as the pain followed every small movement. She rolled her eyes at his ignorant willpower.

"At least REST," she complained, shoving him back to his seat as he tried to stand.

"I'll rest when the fucker who threatened you is outta the picture. He remembers you from Hokies."

"I can handle myself if I ever see his ugly mug again. Come on. You're bleeding like a hog. I'm serious now."

"I'm serious too, fuck!" he declared with a huff. He noticed her take a slight step back with his outburst.

"I didn't-" He let out a deep breath to compose himself. "-didn't mean to yell. If somethin' happens to you, somethin' I coulda prevented... I don't know what I'd do."

"Remember that day at your trailer? When you found out that prick was drugging drinks and you were worried about what if it had been me?"

Trevor glowered in her direction as he recalled the event.

"And what did I say to you?"

His lips balled up into a frown and he deflated against the toilet seat. His frown gave way to a barely visible pout. She wouldn't easily give and it pissed him off. She wanted to see him in one piece. He wanted to handle his business as he always did on his own terms. He rolled his eyes.

"I said, nothing's going to happen to me, Trevor. You wouldn't let it," she explained.

"Well how I am supposed to- yeowch!" he hissed as she swabbed his knuckles with alcohol wipes to get his attention.

"I'm scared," she said, finally revealing a quiver in her voice. "Not of those men, but for you right now. Everyone keeps telling me you're this and you're that, but I'm scared, alright? Seeing you on the ground surrounded like that scared me. You went outside with those guys like it was nothing. Like you weren't worried about what could happen. I'm scared for the man who's blood is currently all over my hands."

"Wash it off if you can't handle it," he said as he took the bandages from her grasp. She watched him tear open the package with his teeth and clumsily wrap his knuckles.

"I'm serious," Trevor reached over and turned one of the knobs over the sink so the water could run. "I've had worse. You don't hafta stress over me anymore. Go home and get some rest."

" You don't hafta stress over me anymore? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothin', Effie. You're just stressed out and I can't think straight with you freakin' out over a little blood-"

"A little blood?" she loudly echoed. "A LITTLE blood?"

She tossed the first aid kit into the sink and pushed out of the small bathroom. She marched up the corridor and swiftly rounded the bar.

"I heard yelling. Everything okay?"

Effie snatched her jacket off the stool she once occupied. She quickly shook her head and wiped her face, smearing a bit of his blood along her chin. Sandy’s eyebrows bunched together in deep seated concern. 

"I'm going home. You can patch him up,” Effie said as he quickly shimmied into her jacket.

"What's the matter?”

"He won't listen to me. He's too busy being selfish to hear anyone. I can't do this. I can't," she said as she turned and quietly left the Hen House.


	22. Chapter 22

Effie’s neat eyebrows knit together as she wound up lost in more of her thoughts. Her tired brown eyes followed the sheets in the dryer as they tumbled in circles of warm heat. She hadn’t properly seen Trevor in a couple of days. Part of her felt horrible for leaving him in that bathroom all beat up and bleeding. Another part of her was terrified for him. The man seemed like he would jump head first into any kind of hellfire if it meant he could cause a bit of destruction. It was the kind of selfish behavior that came with years of not giving a fuck about yourself and not having anyone else give any either. 

“And here I am, giving a fuck,” she muttered out loud. 

The door to the housekeeping office swung open and in walked one of her coworkers. 

“Do you ever go home?” they asked as they loaded up a pushcart with fresh towels. Effie shrugged and looked down at the half full cart of dirty duvets she had left to wash and dry. 

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll finish it. You should’ve been clocked out fifteen minutes ago.” 

Her coworker was taking her cart from her. Effie blinked and drifted back to reality again. 

“Thanks Ash,” Effie said before running a hand over her face to get herself together. She slung her apron over the door and clocked out before she left the room. 

Paleto Bay was always and still humid, even with the sun setting behind the buildings. She claimed the driver’s seat in her Mesa and popped open the glove compartment to retrieve her phone. Two new text messages. 

“Do u work today?” 

“Call when u get off” 

He had sent the two messages, like clockwork, every day since she had stormed out. The time stamp let her know he texted just a moment too late when she had already locked her phone in her car and clocked in to the hotel. When she didn’t respond, the second text rolled in about five minutes later. Earlier, she could have sworn she heard the rumble of his truck passing by the old building just as she was powering up a vacuum cleaner in a newly vacated room. It could have been any old pickup truck driver though. 

She typed up the only two words she had sent him every evening over the last two days. 

“I’m off.” 

He replied with a prompt, 

“Ok.” 

With a huff, she tucked the phone in her pocket and pulled out of the hotel parking lot. Like usual, he was probably getting work done at the Hen House or Vanilla Unicorn. She wouldn’t interrupt. Just hearing from him let her know he was alive. She would go home alone, shower, and relax for the rest of the evening then hear him stumble in at an ungodly hour, then collapse on the couch in a barrage of snores before he woke up and departed before the sun even rose; then the two would start the cycle of work and poorly timed texts all over again in the morning. 

Finding him on the ground beneath his jacked up truck in the drive way was the last thing she expected to see. Her mouth dried up as she came to a slow stop along the curb and snapped into Park. The two of them hadn’t exchanged much outside of good morning and goodnight the past couple of days. The tension was wreaking havoc on her shoulders and head. She could already feel a headache trying to form as she busied herself on her cell phone. Sandy had sent a text asking how she was doing. There were a couple coupons in her emails for nearby restaurants. 

“How was work?” 

Startled, she jumped in the seat as Trevor’s muffled voice came from the other side of the door. He was peering at her through the glass with curious eyes. 

“Jesus...” she muttered, finally opening the door and stepping out beside him. “Work was fine. What’s wrong with Betty?” 

“Just changed her oil,” he said as he wiped his grease-covered hands on the front of his jeans. “When’s the last time you had yours changed?” 

“It’s been a little while,” she answered with a shrug. He pat the warm hood of her Mesa one time. 

“I’ll do it.” 

“Okay.” 

“Okay.” 

His amber eyes scanned her head to toe for another response, anything to continue conversation. She started up the sidewalk for the front door. He watched her slow trot and wondered if she would let him rub her feet like he'd done so many times before. 

“I guess you should show me how to change it, so I can do it myself if you’re not around the next time it's gotta get done,” she added over her shoulder. Trevor hid an eye roll by blinking a few times. 

“When wouldn’t I be around?” he rumbled. 

“You keep getting jumped by people who have vendettas against you so who knows.“ 

“I had it under control,” he said. She whirled around and the fire in her eyes stopped him in his tracks. 

“Under control?” she echoed. “I can’t even look at you without seeing you on the ground, surrounded by those fuckers all over again.” 

Her dark eyes darted over the scab forming across the bridge of his nose and the smear of a green bruise still remaining under his eye. Dirty bandages were still wrapped around his healing knuckles. 

“Who knows what the fuck would have happened if I hadn’t begged Sandy to come outside the bar with me,” she shot back, standing toe to toe with the man in front of her. He wasn’t sure what was safe to say. She was cursing, which he noticed she only did when she was beyond upset. 

"Well?" she urged. 

"What're you lookin' for? I'm sorry?" he tried. 

"I just wish you would be more considerate of the people who care about you-" 

"That ain't many people," he muttered. 

"Well aren't I enough?" she shot back, voice much softer now. Trevor's heart plummeted to the soles of his feet. He grabbed her with his soiled hands and jerked her tight against his frame. It hurt wherever she pressed against a bruise or two, but he didn't care. The last few days of silence had been more painful. Feeling her soft skin and smelling her scent eased his nerves. Just as Effie began to relax against him, a familiar groaning sound came from down the street. It had been taunting him the last hour. Trevor's pulse skyrocketed so he had to act fast. 

"Bring me a water, will ya? I'll show you how to change yer oil then we can talk about whatever you think we need to talk about," he explained. Her eyes finally softened as she looked up at him with a slight shake of her head before she disappeared into the house. 

Trevor marched over to his truck, gritting his teeth together as he shifted the metal car jack so his truck squeaked as the lifted wheel came back down on the ground. He hoisted the metal tool over his shoulder before slinging it across the sky. The glass windshield of a passing Albany Emperor shattered after the tool planted itself right smack in the middle. The old car groaned as the driver swerved and the front tires jumped the curb then crashed into a red fire hydrant. Water bubbled from the bottom as the hydrant lifted a few inches away from the concrete. Trevor hurried down the driveway as the driver unsuccessfully tried to restart the car. Gray smoke hissed out from under the dented hood. 

"What do you want?" the panicked driver asked. 

"What do YOU want? I've watched you drive by my house three fuckin' times now!" Trevor claimed. 

"Dude, I don't know what you're-" 

Trevor gripped the driver by the collar of his t-shirt and dragged him right out the open window. The man was pale, stringy, and bleeding from somewhere in his scalp from the collision. 

“Who hired you?” Trevor growled. He squinted down at the man, their foreheads centimeters apart. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” 

“That’s bullshit!” Trevor hissed through his teeth, saliva flying from his mouth as he fumed. “I’ll cut off yer penis and feed it to ya if you don’t give me a name and where you found him.” 

He slung the man around again, almost surprised by how lightweight he was. The visible needle scars in his arms told the world that he was a user. He was probably high right now. High and stupid. 

“I dunno his name, man. He didn’t tell me. He’s been staying at the clubhouse by the cab depot in the city. His face is all fucked up. He said- He said you’d recognize him so he hired me.” 

“To do what?” 

“To see where you and some girl stay.” 

The screen door squeaked and Effie stepped out onto the porch. She could see Trevor towering over a cowering, bleeding man. Just when she thought he was coming to his senses. 

“Trev, what the hell-“ 

“Is that her?” the man asked. Trevor pressed his forearm against the man’s windpipe to shut him up. 

“Get back inside.” 

“Who’s that?” 

“I said get in the house, Effie!” Trevor barked, giving the man another shove as he balled his fist tighter into his clothing to keep him from moving anywhere near Effie. 

“Don’t hurt me!” the junkie pinned against the car managed to barely get out. 

“What’re you doing? What’s wrong with him?” Effie asked as she crossed the lawn. 

Trevor’s blood was rushing in his ears. His hands were shaking. He could barely hear the traffic passing by or the sirens starting up in the distance. This man was sent to spy and not only was he doing a shitty job at it, but he was just as big a threat as the man who had hired him. 

As Effie approached, Trevor shoved her back and stood between the two of them. She looked to Trevor, confused. He had never put his hands on her like that. The junkie stopped struggling against Trevor’s hold and a weird grin crept over his face. 

He pulled a gun from beneath his shirt and aimed in Effie’s direction. Trevor slung the man behind him. The sound of the shot cracked up and down the street. Curious pedestrians scattered this way and that. Without thinking twice, Trevor wrapped his left hand around the barrel of the pistol and tried to wrench it from the man’s grasp as he fired again. What felt like a wildfire rushed up from Trevor’s hand then all the way up his arm to his shoulder. With that, time seemed to stand still as his heart felt like it was about to burst through his chest. Trevor punched the man across the face with his right fist before grabbing him by the neck and slamming his face into the wrecked hood of his car. As his frame slumped to the ground, Trevor jerked the gun from his limp fingers and tucked it into the waistband of his jeans. 

The sirens drew nearer and his mind raced. Was she hurt? It was all his fault. Her ex-roommate was right about him. Everyone was right about him. He was afraid to turn around and see if she had been hit. This would have never happened if she had stayed away from him like her ex-roommate had told her to do. Trevor started to fall to his knees and surrender to the police but there came a tug on his bleeding hand. 

The pain snapped him right back into his fit of rage, but all the noise subsided when he saw Effie trying to pull him to his feet. 

“Come on!” her yelling voice faded in on his ears. “We gotta get outta here!”


	23. Chapter 23

"You should just go ahead and quit your job," Sandy announced from the driver's seat of her car as Effie stepped out of the housekeeping office at the end of her shift. "At least until all this craziness dies down."  
  
"If I quit my job, then I'll go crazy with nothing to do to keep me occupied," Effie shot back as she rounded the Penumbra. Who was she kidding? She had spent the entire shift mulling over Trevor and wondering if he was hot or cold on the trail of the man after her. It had been almost forty-eight hours since he had hastily covered the wound in his hand with duct tape before he made Sandy swear to watch his girlfriend while he disappeared into the city.  
  
Sandy quickly swiped up the pistol lying on top of the center console as Effie popped open the door to climb in the passenger seat. She warily eyed the gun as Sandy tucked it into the holster fastened to her hip.  
  
"Don't look so scared."  
  
"I'm not scared. I'm tired as hell, worried, and need a drink."  
  
"What're you worried about? Trevor's got it. I can promise you that," Sandy reassured as she started the car and backed away from the hotel to take them back home. The sight of him slamming that strange man head first into his own car flashed back in her mind. Then the blood leaking from his hand and dripping from his fingertips as he stood, dazed, while the sirens got closer. He had kept his eyes on the ground until she grabbed him and insisted they go inside. Then, his hands were all over her after that. Her waist, her wrists, her shoulders. Gripping her tight against him as he pressed his back to their locked front door. His heart beat hard in its rib cage against her ear until he jerked them back outside. The two sped away from the crime scene in his truck.  
  
"I don't think I ever saw him that...scared," Effie said, finally relaxing in the passenger seat as Sandy drove them toward her family's small farmhouse North of Paleto Bay.  
  
"Run it by me again. He was talking in circles before he brought you in and drove off."  
  
"The first time you patched us up was after he took me to Hookies. One of the bikers stabbed him and was trying to do it a second time, but I smashed him in the face with a bottle before we left. The guy that I smashed in the face was part of the crew that jumped Trevor at the bar that night you came out with the shotgun. He wants to kill me," Effie explained. It sounded even scarier saying it out loud. She had evaded the police and run from a few fights during the countless times she had spent riding on a cocaine high, but she had never had someone want her down and out. If the random man had managed to find them, anyone could.  
  
"And did I hear Trevor right when he said this guy wants to kill you 'cause you fucked up his face?" Sandy asked with a raised eyebrow. Effie nodded.  
  
"I'm sure it's more to it than that, but essentially."  
  
"What a fucking baby," she scoffed. "I'm telling you, Trevor's got it covered."

* * *

"Where the fuck is he?"  
  
"Trevor-"  
  
"Five foot ten, maybe a hundred and thirty pounds soakin' wet, brown hair, face all fucked up on the right side. What's his name? Where is he?"  
  
"T, we gotta go," Michael urged. His eyes anxiously scanned the room as club patrons ran this way and that. He could hear heavier footsteps hurrying about over their heads. What was supposed to be a quiet stakeout outside of the Tequi-La-La nightclub turned into Trevor jumping out of Franklin's car and storming in all ablaze with fury and determination. He had slipped brass knuckles over his hands and took out the doorman in one fell swoop before he forced his way into the humid establishment.   
  
A couple go-go dancers shrieked as Trevor jerked a smaller man up by the collar of his jacket and tossed him onto the stage. There were Lost MC pins stuck in the fabric of his coat.  
  
"You know who I'm talkin' about, don'tcha?" Trevor growled. The man nodded and covered his face with his hands as Trevor pulled back his arm, threatening to swing.  
  
"Don't hit me! He-He's been back and forth between Grapeseed an-and the clubhouse-"  
  
Trevor audibly growled and tightened his fist. "WHICH clubhouse?"   
  
He heard the click of Michael's hip holster go off then the quiet _zip zip zip_ of Michael's handgun as bullets whistled through the chamber. The bikers had begun descending the staircase behind the abandoned bar to see what was going on in their club, but Michael was dropping them before they could get close.  
  
"Come ON, Trevor!" he warned.  
  
"E-East Vinewood!" the man stammered. "Hey, d-don't-"  
  
Trevor punched him into the hardwood floor. Michael looked over at his friend, tight-lipped and concerned. Trevor didn't say anything as he marched out of the club. Michael looked around at the mess of dead and unconscious bodies littering the dim building before he hurried out.  
  
"The hell y'all takin' y'all's time for? You hear them sirens!" came Franklin's voice from the Ocelot idling on the curb. Trevor shouldered through the gathering crowd and threw himself into the backseat, slamming the door behind him. Michael took the passenger and Franklin sped them away from the scene.  
  
"If you ever jump outta one of my movin' cars again, we gonna have problems!" Franklin glared back at Trevor in the rear view mirror. "Where're we goin' now?"  
  
"Nowhere yet," Michael interjected as Trevor leaned forward to speak. He pulled a handkerchief from his suit pocket and dabbed at the tiny flecks of blood on his sweaty forehead.  
  
"You heard the lil fucker! Their clubhouse in East LS. Frank, it's right across from your cab spot. Let's go," Trevor ordered.  
  
"Not a fucking chance, Franklin. At least, not yet. Trevor's gonna get us killed," Michael claimed.  
  
"Then I'll do it by my fuckin' self," Trevor started for the door handle but Franklin quickly hit the locks. Trevor's eyes burned a hole in the back of his head.  
  
"Fuck it," Franklin sighed, driving through the gate outside of Michael's house and pulling up the neat driveway behind Michael's Tailgater. He snapped the car into Park then whirled around to look at Trevor glowering in the backseat.  
  
"I know you pissed, but _you_ can't go buck wild if _we_ ain't ready," Franklin gestured between himself and Michael. "I'll be damned if I gotta deal with Effie's wrath cause you fucked around and died or some shit."  
  
Trevor chuckled at the thought. Franklin sucked his teeth.  
  
"There. That right there? You gon' fuck around and lose her one way or the other. You can't be out here doin' whatever you want however you want. That's how I lost my girl. Tanisha? I'm sure you done heard her name in conversation a few times," Franklin explained, brows knit tight together. "I never listened to her and eventually she got fed up, left, and didn't come back. She gettin' married and she ain't lookin' back."  
  
Michael watched Franklin as he tried to talk sense into his long-time friend. Trevor let out a deep breath but his legs were still bouncing.  
  
"You want somebody else to spend money on her? Take her out? Hug her? Fuck her?"  
  
Trevor grumbled and growled before finally uncrossing his arms. Some of the wildness finally left his bright eyes.  
  
"He's right, T."  
  
"The fuck would you know about any of that? You and Amanda are like pit-bulls in a china shop around each other," he hissed. "Fine. We can fuckin' wait. But we move in less than twenty-four hours."  
  
"I don't think I've ever seen you this worked up," Franklin said.  
  
"This fucker sent someone to MY house. I want him dead."  
  
"I've been there, pal. We're gonna handle it, T. I'll give Lester a call and see if he can get some footage from the street cameras in that area. We'll work out some angles and figure something out," Michael explained. Trevor jerked his phone out of his pocket and tapped the screen which only made him roll his eyes. No new notifications.  
  
"It's late. She gotta be sleepin', homie," Franklin said with a shrug. He eyed the duct tape bound around Trevor's hand. "Maybe we should get that wrapped up good before we make any moves?"  
  
Trevor looked down at the makeshift bandage he had thrown together. Now that he was calming down, the pain was starting to seep in. His knuckles ached from having to hold his hand in one forced position against the thick tape. His skin was bruising around the adhesive and he could feel the heated prick from the after burn of the bullet searing across the top of his flesh. He needed antibiotics and a clean shirt.  
  
"Fine. I'm sure Mandy will be delighted to have the three stooges in a for a while."  
  
"If she isn't passed out from one of her prescribed meds, we'll never hear the end of it."  
  
"Shit, I might need one of them prescriptions after all this," Franklin said as he unlocked all the doors.


	24. Chapter 24

The barrage of rainbow colored strobe lights flickered and bounced off of the sweaty bodies of the party goers dancing around Trevor on the dance floor of the grungy nightclub. The bleach blonde woman in the DJ booth was chopping and screwing “Meet Me Halfway” by The Black Eyed Peas with her soundboard but Trevor could barely hear it. His mind was elsewhere and traveling at over a hundred miles an hour. He had just seen the man with the scarred face.

Before he disappeared onto the dance floor in the middle of the dim club, he had been turning away from the bar just as Michael sat down on one of the stools and ordered a drink. If ever there were a time Trevor wished his best friend would have had his trusty suppressed handgun tucked beneath the hem of his stupid Hawaiian shirt, it was that moment. Their third set of ready hands, Franklin, was parked in an alley across the street, his car’s headlights shut off and the finely tuned engine under the hood quietly idling as he watched the entrance of the club for anyone trying to leave in a hurry.

“... _ oh, I can’t go any further than this, I want you so badly, it’s my biggest wish...”  _ Fergie’s voice poured from the large speakers. A puff of smoke shot out from either side of the DJ booth and covered the dance floor in a thin haze. A scantily clad dancer brushed along Trevor’s stubbly jaw with the back of her hand and a wide smile. He jerked away with a grimace and took a few steps further in the crowd to continue searching. He relaxed his jaw as he turned his neck this way and that. His teeth ached. He didn’t realize he had been clenching them together or that his fingers were locked in tight fists by his sides. He looked down at the calculator watch on his wrist.

It was almost five in the morning. Michael had just finished bickering with Amanda in the kitchen of their mansion and Franklin was dozing on the living room couch when Lester, who had agreed to look into searching the city’s traffic cameras only after Trevor wired him another chunk of cash, sent Trevor a text containing three words. Leopold’s Night Club. It was a newly opened dance club just a block south of Mirror Park and he had seen Trevor’s target push into the place with a smile on his face.

“ _I spend my time just thinking thinking thinking bout you, I’m really missing missing you.. __._”

Part of Trevor wanted to go back to the day he robbed that convenience store so he could keep driving past it. He wanted to ignore the tired-eyed, long-legged beauty he could make out almost a mile away as he came barreling down Grand Senora Freeway. He had planned to head into the city to get a dance at The Vanilla Unicorn. Upon seeing her pumping gas in the clean Mesa out in the afternoon sun, he wanted a closer look, but when he felt his curiosity growing a little too big a little too fast, he had to do something to shake it off. So he pulled out his shotgun, aimed it at the clerk and shouted for all the money in the register.

Amidst the colorful lights on the dance floor, a white light broke through. Trevor whipped his head in its direction. Above the sea of swaying heads and bouncing bodies, he barely caught sight of a scarred face before the door shut and the wide room was dim once more. Trevor loomed and shouldered through the bumbling crowd. He knew he was supposed to go get Michael. He had promised on the way to the club that he would not be hasty, but fighting to get through the bodies was taking long enough for him as is. He wanted this more than anything. He hadn’t seen his Effie in almost 72 hours. This fucker was the reason and now they were under the same roof.

The door was neatly spray painted with the words RESTROOM 4 ALL. As Trevor pushed the door in, two women with pink lipstick smeared about the edges of their mouths pulled and stepped to the side to let him inside as they departed the brightly lit room. 

“Excuse me!” one giggled as she squeezed by. There were lipstick kiss marks all over her neck. It made Trevor think of the marks Effie had left along his throat. It seemed so long ago. His teeth clenched together again as he felt a growl rumble in his throat at the thought. He quickly surveyed the room then closed the door behind the two women and twisted the lock. 

Urinals lined one wall. Black stalls lined the opposite wall. All but one of the stall doors were unoccupied and opened. A pair of worn, black sneakers squeaked as a man rocked on the soles of his feet while he used the closed stall. Trevor leaned against the locked door and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting. His heart was hammering hard and fast against his forearm. He focused on the gray ceramic tiles making up the walls of the monochrome room and hoped no one needed to use the bathroom for a couple of minutes. That was all he needed. 

He thought about how he could do it. He hadn’t brought any gun. The scarred man probably didn’t have one either. They had all been pat down by security before being allowed entry to the club. He could choke him out with his bare hands. He could stomp him out like he had done Johnny Klebitz. He shifted on his feet and felt the cool reminder that was the handle of a switchblade tucked into his tube sock. He suddenly wasn’t sure if he wanted to make it quick or not. 

The toilet flushed and Trevor felt himself smiling. The metal stall door squeaked open & the scarred man stepped out. He tucked the tail of his belt through a loop in his jeans and raised his head to find a familiar man blocking the one entrance and exit out of the bathroom. He nodded and nonchalantly made his way over to the row of sinks. 

“Thought I saw you lurking out there Philips, but I won’t sure,” he said. He swiped at a knob on one of the sinks and started to wash his hands. Trevor slowly started across the room with his hand stuffed in the pockets of his jeans. 

“That junkie you sent to my house was a fuckin’ idiot,” he said. Their voices echoed around the wide, empty bathroom.

“I just wanted to scare your girlfriend. Did it work?” he asked.

“She’s a tough one,” Trevor said with a shrug. The man dried his hands under an air dryer and faced Trevor head on. He still stood between him and the door. 

“I reckon you want to hurt me, huh?”

“I plan on doin’ more than just hurtin’ ya,” Trevor said, his voice just barely louder than a mutter. The scarred man lunged for the exit but Trevor clotheslined him then shoved him into a floor to ceiling mirror by the dryers, shattering it into a hundred pieces. The man whimpered and quickly crawled backward over the broken mirror shards. He picked up a shard and swung wildly, the sharp tip dragging itself between the knuckles of Trevor’s left hand as he grabbed at his ankle. Trevor didn’t stop advancing despite the thin line of blood escaping the scratch. The scarred man’s eyes widened as he realized just how deep his attacker’s determination ran. 

“You’re gonna kill me over some bitch?” he yelled. “Help! HELP!”

“They can’t hear you over the music, slick!” Trevor yelled back. He straddled the smaller man and swung at the left side of his face over and over, until his knuckles were bloody and his once unharmed profile was as swollen and disfigured as the right side that had been struck with a bottle. Trevor pulled back his fist one more time, holding it in the air as he stared down at the nearly unconscious man beneath him. He coughed, flecking Trevor’s face and white t-shirt with blood and spittle. 

“Now I fucked up yer face. You wanna kill me too?” Trevor tested.

“Give me ti-time. I will. Then me and my boys will take real good care of your girlfriend. Oh yeah,” he said with a choked laugh. He grinned up at Trevor with swollen gums and blood smeared teeth. Trevor’s tongue danced behind his teeth as his mouth sat ajar a few centimeters. The words from the man beneath him bounced around his head until his blood roared in his ears. It drowned out the disrespect, the threats, the club’s muffled music, and the barely audible sound of someone knocking on the locked bathroom door. 

His chest hurt. His teeth were gritting together so hard that it felt like he were chewing on rocks like chewing gum. He recalled the look on Effie’s face as she came angrily marching up behind the man stabbing him at Hokies. He had never been more terrified of her, worried for her, and aroused in his whole life. From that moment on, he knew he would have done just about anything for her and anything to make sure she was safe. 

Anything. He reached into his sock and withdrew the switch blade. Even with swollen eyes, Trevor could see the fear suddenly multiply in the man pinned beneath him. He tried batting away Trevor grip as he grabbed the front of his stained shirt. Trevor stood, jerking him to his feet and shoving him into one of the stalls. Pieces of the mirror crackled beneath their feet as they moved.

“He-Hey man,” the scarred man started to plead in a scared tone. With no hesitation, Trevor flicked open the blade and dug the sharp end directly into the man’s side, in the same place where he had stabbed him in the restaurant. The man hollered. Trevor pulled out the knife and stabbed him once more then twisted the blade in his abdomen. Warm blood pooled across his knuckles and down the wrist of his hand, staining the denim of his pants and dripping onto the hard toes of his snakeskin boots. The man’s mouth popped open in a silent scream before his jaw went slack and he slumped against the toilet. His light eyes unfocused on Trevor, staring through him at absolutely nothing. 

He withdrew the blade and calmly backed out of the stall, sucking in deep breaths of air through his nose. The irony smell of blood was thickening around him. He had planned on taking his time and it felt like he had spent an eternity and a half in this bathroom but the same song was playing on the other side of the wall, the baseline rattling the locks on the metal stall doors.

“_ I will fly, fly the skies for you and I... I will try until I die, for you and I, for you and I..._ ”

He stepped up to a sink and rinsed the blood off his hands with cool water. His amber eyes met his reflection, startling himself for a moment like a wild animal caught in headlights. Little bright red dots of blood were sprayed all over his face and chin. He splashed water on his sweaty skin and blotted himself dry with a paper towel. He tucked the blade back into his sock and his jaw finally relaxed. More knocking came on the bathroom door. As he turned the knock, someone forced their way inside.

“About time! I’ve gotta piss!” a man covered in sweat and fluorescent colored glow sticks announced as he hurried into the bathroom. As he pulled his tight shorts around his thighs at a urinal, he didn’t bat an eyelash at the shattered mirror on the ground or the smears of blood on the tiled floor. Trevor closed the bathroom door behind him and bumped into Michael. Michael stared at the blood on his friend’s shirt. The strobe lights were now alternating with a black light, which illuminated his white shirt and made the red flecks stand out more in the dark room.

“I guess we need to go now, huh?” Michael asked. 

“Right now, pork chop.”

The man in the bathroom let out a muffled yelp that no one on the dance floor could hear. “Jesus Christ!”

“ _ I can’t go any further than this, I want you so bad, it’s my only wish! _ ”


	25. Chapter 25

Trevor woke with a start, heart racing with panic and chest heaving as he panted to catch his breath following his too vivid nightmare. The old mattress squeaked beneath him as he swung his legs over the side while wiping sweat from his warm forehead using the back of his hand. '_I just wanted to scare your girlfriend_,' the scarred man had said. After those words bounced off the walls of the empty bathroom, a heat like no other had risen in Trevor's face and chest. What followed was blacked out. The man's foolish, dying words echoed in his ears as he rubbed his eyes with his knuckles until he saw blooming stars. Scare her by sending a doped up gunman to his house. To their house. The thought alone sent his blood pumping like mad all over again, but it was handled. They didn't have to worry about him anymore. She didn't have to worry about him anymore.

Trevor looked down at his hands and winced. The burn across his palm from the druggie's misfired bullet was scabbed over and that would start falling off soon. It would take everything in him to not pluck at it. The man's dried blood was caked beneath the bed of his fingernails and between his still-swollen knuckles. His shoulders still hurt from the swings he took to strike the man. As soon as he got away from Michael and Franklin, he ha sped to his trailer in Sandy Shores and drowned out the club's music and the glow stick guy's exclamation with the entire six-pack of Pisswasser in his refrigerator. He hadn't even been bothered to change clothes. He was still wearing the stained jeans, blood having clung to the fabric after rolling down his arm from the stabbing. He saw the man's eyes lose focus on him all over again before he shook his head clear of the memory of what had happened last night.

"You up, T?" came Ron's voice from outside of his trailer. He grunted back in response. The screen door made a slapping sound as it was pushed open before Ron Jakowski carefully stuck his head into the lion's den that was Trevor's unkempt bedroom. The sleepy giant glowered through his thick brow up at the thin man before him. He took a cautious step back.

"Why're you nervous now, Nervous Ron?" Trevor asked before his mouth gave way to a yawn. The smell of his own breath made him wince again.

"It-It's just been a while, boss. How ya doing?"

He gestured down to his bloody clothing and grinned. "Peachy. How's the fuckin' business? I'm assumin' no news means good news. You and Chef haven't called in ages."

"I think your phone's dead. I-I tried calling earlier but it went to voicemail," Ron explained.

"What for? Earlier?" Trevor echoed as he peeked past Ron at the deep orange sunbeams warming the trailer through the open screen door. "What time is it?"

"Just after six in the evening-" Ron jumped backwards as Trevor was suddenly on his feet and shouldering through the doorway past him. He marched out onto the porch and scanned the quietly bumbling road with hungover eyes that went bleary and burned against the setting sun light. It was late in the day. Skateboards, hoopties and golf carts were carrying dusty people home.

"She's goin' to kill me..." Trevor whispered before he whirled on his heel and pushed back into the trailer, knocking Ron against the kitchen counter in the process.

"Kill you? Who-Who boss?" he asked. Trevor turned on the hot water in the shower and jerked the bloodied shirt over his head.

"My girlfriend," he said, a purr easing into his voice as he peeled off the jeans and tossed the ball of clothing into Ron's arms. "Throw 'em in the barrel outside."

"G-Girlfriend? Since when?" Ron asked, eyes widening with surprise. "Tha-That why you haven't been around much?"

Trevor stood in the middle of the bathroom in his skivvies and socks, bright eyes trained on his business partner. Ron grew uneasy under the wild gaze he had been free from for a little too long. He knew what he was doing. He flew a plane back and forth whenever a call came in for a drop or a pickup. And Chef. He kept the scavengers at bay. The two knew what they were doing and although they both found relief in their boss being preoccupied with other business ventures and other people, their curiosity had grown. Ron was surprised at the words spilling past his own thin, chapped lips but he was even more surprised when Trevor calmly answered his question instead of berating him. Or worse.

"Yeah, girlfriend. If you don't know what yer doin' anymore, I can pop my head in every now and again to make sure you ain't went dumb or double crossed me," he said. Ron frantically shook his head back and forth.

"I would never-"

Trevor peeled off the socks, dropped his tighty-whities to his ankles and flashed a toothy grin in Ron's direction. His business partner grew pale and his eyes darted about the trailer, unable to find a place to settle his gaze.

"Then how about you shut the fuck up, take care of my clothes, and find my fuckin' phone!"

Ron jumped with a small yelp and hurried from the trailer. Trevor snatched up his toothbrush an finally stepped under the stream of hot water. She was going to kill him.

* * *

He wasn't sure how long his phone had been dead for but it took ages to catch the slightest charge. The screen didn't light up until he came to a screeching stop in the alley behind The Hen House. Text messages, emails and missed calls rolled in one after the other. Effie had called three times in the last twenty-four hours. Franklin had called twice. Ron had called once before sending a text message.

"Think I heard your truck. You back, boss?" he read Ron's text out loud then rolled his eyes. In between Franklin and Ron's phone calls sat a text message with Effie's name filled in the sender line. He opened it with a button press. His blood pressure shot through the roof and made his head swim. She couldn't be serious. She couldn't be. Trevor blinked away from the phone screen as the employee entrance door over the loading bay swung violently open. The metal handle hit the brick wall with a _clang! _that made him jump.

"Oh thank hell you're here!" Blake let out in a panic. With zero hesitation, Trevor popped open the glove compartment of his truck and whisked out the loaded pistol he had stolen off the junkie gunman. Blake put up both his hands as Trevor hopped out of the truck, ready for a fight.

"The bikers back?" he asked.

"No, no! Nothing like that. I just..."

As Trevor neared the building, the sound of loud rock music and cheering began to fade in on his ears.

"Sandy gets a night off and it's a party? How unfair," Trevor joked but the panic remaining in his employee's eyes didn't falter. Not a second later, a breathless and sweaty Sandy came scurrying outside to join her coworker and her boss. Trevor raised an eyebrow at the woman. Sandy was scheduled off and was supposed to be at her family's farmhouse with Effie whenever she was scheduled off.

"We thought we heard your truck! Can you..." she jabbed a thumb over her shoulder. "Just come _on_."

Blake closed the door behind them as Sandy led the way back up the dim hallway. There was a haste in her pace Trevor had never seen. Although he had tucked the handgun into the waistband along the back of his jeans, a hint of worry relentlessly tugged on his nerves.

"Get on! Shoo!" Sandy urged. Trevor stepped into the doorway leading into the bar room and stopped in his tracks, mouth agape. Blake nearly bumped into him from behind. 

Sandy shoved and pulled at the men collected around the bar with eager eyes and chattering mouths. Def Leppard's "Pour Some Sugar on Me" spilled from the jukebox along the far wall of the room. The guitar riff rumbled the paneled walls and the cymbal clanging made his ears ring a little.

"Effie, GET DOWN!" Sandy exclaimed. The woman on top of the bar was sweating and dancing with her eyes closed. Sandy contemplated grabbing the woman by her ankles and pulling with her might, hoping for the best. One man walked two fingers up the calf of Effie's jeans until Blake swatted his hand away. Effie laughed loudly, winding her hips and rhythmically stomping her bare feet. Trevor eyed her sandals on the wooden floor in the middle of the room. He watched her, entranced. It had been days. He had missed her. This wasn't how he had expected to find her. He didn't want to have to hurt anyone else over her but the hyenas were running rampant in his absence.

"Let'er dance! I'll throw a couple dollar bills her way!" a man jeered. Another man jabbed an elbow into his side but didn't take his eyes off the dancer's hips.

"Don't let Trevor hear you tawkin' 'bout his lady like that," he warned.

"Trevor? Ain't no one seen him in days! I ain't worried 'bout him no ways."

Another man grabbed at Effie's pants, which sent Trevor marching into the room for all to see. The crowd seemed to collectively gasp. A few men tripped and fell over one another as they hurried to move out of Trevor's path. Blake hurried over and lowered the volume on the jukebox. The elderly men playing billiards watched it all unfold, amusement filling the creases on their sleepy faces. Sandy cringed and started apologizing profusely as Trevor shouldered through the group of perpetrators eyeing his girlfriend like rabid animals.

"I'm sorry, Trevor. I just stopped by to pick up my purse. I forgot it in the office. I told her to stay in the car," Sandy explained.

"It's my fault!" Blake hurried back around the bar to clean up a broken glass bowl of peanuts he had watched Effie kick over during her attempt to climb onto the bar not long before Trevor pulled up outside. "I didn't know she wasn't supposed to drink. I'm sorry."

"Turn the music back up!" Effie complained as she took a dollar bill out of a strange man's extended hand. Hearing her voice sent needles pricking at Trevor's skin all over. Trevor jerked the man to the floor by the collar and kicked him with the toe of his boot one time before he turned back to meet her gaze.

"Effie Mae Jones," he greeted. Saying her name felt odd after taking someone's life to protect her. He would have walked to the ends of the earth to make sure she was okay. He couldn't quite tell if she was okay at the moment. The brown eyes staring down at him from atop the bar were unfamiliar. She squinted at him and cocked her head to the side before her mouth fell open in silent surprise. He felt the same way he had felt the day he stood behind her in line at that convenience store gas station, like he suddenly couldn't breathe.

He had expected to be met with rage. Rage was easy. He was a connoisseur at rage. Why didn't you answer my calls? Why didn't you call me? Instead, she was climbing down from the counter like a clumsy child whose parent had finally gotten home from work and was wrapping around him like she couldn't get enough of him. Her face was buried deep in his neck, tears flying and dampening the collar of his shirt. Trevor felt his cheeks burning as the room seemed to gawk at the two of them. Her arms were tight around his shoulders, her fingertips digging into the skin of his bicep poking out of the cloth. She staggered on the tips of her toes, trying to get closer than he thought possible. He swept her up beneath her knees and swallowed the lump in his throat before he turned around to survey the now quiet room. Tables and chairs were overturned. The room stunk of spilled beer and whiskey and cigarettes. He couldn't be mad at Blake or Sandy. He knew how men could be, how people jumped at opportunities.

"Clean this place up," he quietly ordered before turning to leave through the back doors.

"I'm sorry, T," Blake called out one more time. Trevor didn't say anything back, just let the metal door clang shut behind them. He stopped to stand beneath the orange glow of the streetlamp and collect himself in the moment. The sound of her yelling before the now deceased gunman pulled the trigger outside of their house finally left his ears. The man's pleading from the bathroom stall grew a lot less loud. She was fine. She was in his arms, smelling of her familiar flowery perfume and whatever alcohol Blake had let her drink. It was coming out of her pores.

"Alright, let's get you home," Trevor said as he rounded his truck. Reluctantly, she unlatched from his shoulders and let him sit her in the passenger seat. He felt her eyes lingering on him the whole time he rounded the vehicle, her full eyelashes fluttering as she struggled to blink and hiccup at the same time. Before he climbed into the driver's seat, he pulled his cell phone out of his front pocket and gave the text message she had sent him not long ago another read over.

"_Plz don't be dead. Imdrunk. Ilove oyu_"

He shook his head and felt a small smile tug at the side of his mouth as he started the engine. She was going to kill him. Right. As if.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lana Del Rey's "Once Upon A Dream" plays in my head every time Effie & Trevor make eye contact & boy does it make me feel a whole lot of things.


	26. Chapter 26

“Just ‘cause it’s a good song doesn’t mean it had to be played at its loudest volume,” Effie complained out loud as she felt herself waking up. The night before, Phil Collins had been crooning, but it was Def Leppard’s loud lyrics that had left a small ringing noise to persist in her ears. The loud jukebox and the liquor left her head was swimming. She cracked open her still sore eyes and found the space next to her in bed was empty. He was gone. Had she dreamt last night? No. She remembered crying for what felt like ages until eventually, she succumbed to sleep nestled against Trevor’s side. He had been there. It was all fuzzy around the edges, but her feet and legs hurt. She recalled dancing with her eyes closed until someone said her name. She had nearly fallen trying to climb down from the counter, to touch him and make sure he was there. And boy was he there, cheeks growing hot against her skin and arms tight wrapped around her.

All the muscles in her body protested as she sat up against the mattress and scratched at her scalp. She was not sure if he had gotten her text message. No amount of alcohol could drown out the memory of what she had typed, but he hadn’t said a word about it when he saw her. He just appeared before her, looking up at her with that smug, handsome face. She hadn’t known what to think. He had been missing in action for over seventy-two hours and thirty-six of those had been spent in complete silence with phone calls that went straight to voicemail. Those last three words spilled out before she could stop her thumbs from typing it out. Send. Delivered. Never spoke on. The mattress squeaked as she stretched. A bit of shame burned the tips of her ears. She had never sent a drunk text before. She wondered if she would have said those words sober or if she had just been saying them because she was afraid something had happened. He had said it and all they had been doing was riding in an elevator up to their hotel room. He had been drunk too - so drunk that he passed out on the bathroom floor and it took all her strength to drag him into the comfortable, and expensive, bed.

And now, she was alone. Again. With a huff, she pushed to her feet and waddled to the bathroom. It felt like it took ages for her bladder to empty as she sat with the heels of her feet pressed up against the cool bottom edge of the commode. Drink after drink after drink until she lost count… Her stomach had lurched then, and it was lurching now. She had let her mind wander at work, thinking of all the horrible things that could have happened until she was a near-sobbing mess. When Sandy stopped by the Hen House for something, she snuck off to the bar and poor Blake didn’t know she had quit drinking months ago. The familiar sound of Trevor’s truck rumbling to a stop made her ears prick.

* * *

Outside of the time he found himself standing over what was supposed to be Michael Townley’s grave in North Yankton with a cold shovel in his hands, Trevor’s heart had never beat so hard before. He was sitting in his truck parked along the curb outside of his pale yellow Paleto Bay home, staring at his cell phone. Again. _Ilove oyu_.

“I love you.” The words felt foreign as they left his mouth in the quiet car. He snatched the Aviators off his eyes and sat up straight to look at himself in the rearview mirror.

“I love you,” he practiced again, cringing at his reflection. “Effie, I love you too. No. No, no, no. I love you too, Effie. Fuck! Effie, I...”

It didn’t sound quite right. His voice was too rough, and his tone kept rising a few octaves on the last word, like he was nervous or questioning it. He _was_ nervous. The most nervous he had ever been in his entire life. This morning, he would have to face her mostly sober. Would she remember what she had sent? He recalled how drunk he had gotten weeks ago, so drunk they had to stay at that swanky hotel. He had said it and all she did was blink. Never brought it back up. Never questioned it. She probably didn’t even remember.

What if it happened like that again? It couldn’t. It would drive him mad. If he had to bring it up, he would. Mouth dry, hands shaky, heart racing. Regardless, he would. He eyed the bag of fresh food sitting in the passenger seat. He had to go back inside of the house sooner or later. Her hangover would kill her if she didn’t put some grease on her stomach.

His hands shook as he snatched up the bag, tucked away his phone, and started up the sidewalk for the front door. He wasn’t ready to face her sober after what had happened last night. The crying. She had cried so damn much, rubbed her nose pink and raw before she fell asleep with her head on his chest. He didn’t know what to say so he just hugged her tight and laid there beneath her. All night. Eyes wide open and watching the rising sun creep across the ceiling while he listened to her snore. She didn’t move a single inch up until around a half hour ago when she rolled onto her left side and draped an arm over a thick pillow then immediately resumed snoring. He took the opportunity to run out and grab a few of her favorite breakfast sandwiches from the diner up the freeway.

As he pulled out his key to unlock the front door, it swung open inward and Effie quietly stepped outside.

“Was wondering where you disappeared to this time.” Her voice was pained and quiet. Frozen with his keys still in hand, Trevor watched her slowly cross the front porch. Their olive-green bedsheet dragged against the worn wood as it hung around her bare shoulders. The straps of an old tank top she had just put on inched down her upper arms before she tugged them up with an annoyed sigh. Her hair needed combing and her bloodshot eyes squinted against the mid-morning’s daylight. She plopped down in the old metal porch swing with a yawn then pat the empty space to her right. Like a loyal puppy, he hurried over and sat down beside her.

“That for us?” She pointed to the bag in his tight grasp. He had almost forgotten he was holding it.

“For you,” he said, and he winced at how dumb he sounded. He handed over the bag. She crumpled open the white paper then handed over one of the sandwiches.

“I can’t eat all three of these,” she let out. “Good morning to you too.”

“Good morning,” he said. She unwrapped her sandwich and took a bite. The delicious scent of the bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich made his stomach growl and he remembered he had not eaten since before him and the boys left for Leopold’s Night Club. Even then, it had only been half a peanut butter and jelly that Franklin made him eat in the middle of Michael’s kitchen because “homie, I ain’t seen you eat nothing since you came down here. Take this before yo’ ass pass out.” He unwrapped his sandwich and took several bites, wondering what to say next.

Effie stared out at the quiet street as she chewed her food. The fire hydrant had been mounted back in its normal spot against the sidewalk. She could see little bits of leftover shattered glass tinkling in the road under the sun. The sound of the junkie’s gun going off in her direction had made her jump, had made the whole altercation more than real. It was real and it had happened a few feet from where they now peacefully sat. She just thought Trevor had been fighting a recklessly driving pedestrian.

A bullet had been meant for her but he had stopped it. Pinned the man to the old car. Slammed his face into the dented hood. The two of them ran inside before the police arrived, Trevor’s blood all over their clothes. Watched the men in uniforms through closed blinds before they called a tow truck then an ambulance before quietly leaving because they _knew who lived here_. He sent her to stay with Sandy until he came back because “it ain’t safe for her to be alone so I need a favor” then peeled away in his truck with a screech of thick, rubber tires.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Trevor’s voice made her jump a little. His girlfriend’s eyes shifted over but refused to wander higher than his throat. He swallowed and his Adam’s apple bobbed just above the thin lines of her favorite tattoo, the CUT HERE just along his neck. Her eyes darted up to the scar in his top lip then jumped further up to his thick eyebrows. She felt his stern gaze on her, but she couldn’t meet his eyes.

“S’the matter?” he asked. “Didja miss me?”

“I did,” she said with a deep sigh. “I just...”

Trevor’s eyes darted all over her face as she searched for what to say next. Why wouldn’t she look him in his eyes? He couldn’t get an idea of what she was thinking. It drove him insane. Finally, she sat up straighter and let the sheet fall. The movement made her brain feel like it was tilting to one side. She let out a groan and pressed a hand to her forehead.

“See what happens when you drink after sayin’ you quit?” he gently chastised. Anything to break the silence.

“I needed something to take the edge off or else I was gonna lose my mind with all that worrying about you,” she explained.

“I like to think you know me well enough to not worry that much.”

“I tried, Trevor. Sandy said I shouldn’t worry because you’re... well, you’re you, y’know? But you stopped replying to my texts then when I did call, the line wouldn’t even ring. I thought something bad had happened to you,” she confessed. Her eyes briefly held his and he caught a glimpse of the forlornly gleam he would have never been able to notice through her tears last night. She quickly swiped at her face as her eyes tried welling with tears once more.

“That ain’t nothin’ to cry over,” Trevor said as he swiped at her damp cheek with a thumb. “My damn phone died. I’ll get ya Franklin and Michael’s numbers just in case- “

“No, babe. No more ‘just in case’. I don’t want you running off without a proper explanation anymore.” A stern tone crept into her voice, but the pet name eased his nerves. She kept speaking.

“What am I here for? I’m supposed to be able to help you, right?”

His eyebrows creased together.

“What good am I to you if I let you just fume and run headfirst into the darkness by yourself over and over again?”

“You don’t have to do- “

“I don’t _have_ to, but I _want_ to be the person you come to when you need to calm down. You’ve told me a hundred times; it gets loud in your head. I can help shut it all up. What did I tell you after our first date? When you let Rose’s lie get to you?” she explained. He remembered it loud and clear as though she had just said it yesterday. ‘ _You don’t get to disappear on me_ , _Trevor Philips_.’ Her words swirled around in his brain like the tumbleweeds skipping across the runway of his hangar on a slow day. No one had ever quite wanted anything to do with him that wasn’t necessary. It was still lost on him why she wanted to be around him so long. Part of him chalked her text up to being under the influence.

“I thought the worst last night,” she finally said. She put away the rest of the food and tilted her head a little to look at her boyfriend with a sigh. “I don’t know why or how I thought you would see it if you were dead.”

“See what?” He swallowed thickly, mouth quickly growing dry. It was a dumb question he had spat out simply because he was nervous.

“Never mind. We will talk about it another time. I have to take a shower and wash off this alcohol smell,” she shook her head. He felt like he was going to throw up his breakfast.

“Another time then,” he muttered to himself. He didn’t get up from the swing once Effie pushed to her feet and walked back inside. His hands curled into weak, defeated fists in his lap. His phone vibrated in his pants pocket. He stretched out a leg to fish out the device. Franklin’s name scrolled horizontally across the screen.

“Dude? It’s barely ten. The fuck was you callin’ me so early for?” Franklin greeted from the other end. He sounded as though he also had just woken up and was hungover. The voice of a quiet female was barely audible over the line. It made Trevor remember why he had called his friend while waiting for their bag of breakfast in the crowded drive thru not long ago. He had left both Franklin and Michael voicemails insisting he had something important he wanted to tell them tomorrow. Tomorrow. Because he had wanted to spend today making sure. He had to make sure before he lost his mind.

“I’ll call ya back later, Frank,” Trevor said.

“T, how you just gon- “

Trevor hung up and marched inside of the house. The sound of the shower running filled the quiet house and seemed louder than the sound of his heart beating hard in his burning ears. He moved quickly while the chaotic impulse had a hold of him. Somehow, she still managed to reduce him to a ball of nerves with just the thought of her. Those long legs, that kind smile, that determination to be right beside him all the damn time. She didn’t run away. She never did.

Her bathing silhouette was blurred through the frosted shower door. The little tune she was humming vibrated off the bathroom walls. Without thinking twice, Trevor kicked off his shoes, scraped open the shower door, and carefully stepped inside.

“Trevor!” Effie yelped as she jumped backwards, knocking a few bottles of soap and conditioner from the plastic rack suction cupped to the tiled wall. “What’re you doing?”

He wrapped her in a tight embrace, pressing her sudsy chest right up against his t-shirt. He looked down his nose at her then pressed a kiss against her wet lips.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, breathless against his mouth. The taste of soap seeped in around the corners of their mouths, but he didn’t care. His hands held tight to her waist, holding her in place. His wet socks started to give way beneath him, but she steadied the two of them with a hand on the frosted shower door. He pulled his mouth away from hers and sucked in a deep breath.

“I love you, too.”

* * *

The sound of the shower door being pulled up didn’t startle Effie. Trevor suddenly leaping into the shower fully clothed didn’t start her either. It was what had just come out of his mouth. His amber eyes were focused on her, wide with fear. He didn’t stutter. He was sober and it wasn’t a question.

Effie’s mouth fell open and she gently grabbed the side of his face. So he had gotten it and actually seen it. His silence on the matter had been deafening and sitting beside him on that swing with breakfast had been suffocating. The grip of anxiety on her ribs finally let out and allowed her to take a deep breath. She gripped his chin and pulled him in for another kiss, dragging him further into the shower until he stood directly beneath the stream of warm water. She pulled the wet polo up by its bottom hem until he jerked it the rest of the way over his head and let it fall to the bottom of the tub with a wet slapping sound.

“Wait, wait,” she placed a hand on his chest. “I meant it. You know that, right? I know I was drunk, but I knew what I was saying. I do love you.”

“You think I ain’t know what I was sayin’ the first night I said it to you? Back when I was so shit faced you had to book that fancy hotel?” he suggested.

“And you pissed in a plant,” she said as she bit on her bottom lip and laughed.

“But I said I loved you and you left me hangin’, Eff.” His eyes looked sad for a moment.

“You said you THINK you loved me, and you were drunk. How was I supposed to know you really meant it?”

“Would a man who didn’t love you kiss on you the way I did that next mornin’?” he asked as he kissed the water droplets off her neck.

“I dunno. Why don’t you show me what a man who loves me would do?” she suggested, eyes lingering on him like a predator who had just found their prey waiting for them. Trevor had never been happier to be alive.


	27. Chapter 27

Hey! I know, I’ve been MIA! I started university in August & after being out of school for 8 years, I swear my head was spinning, but I’ve got just 2 weeks left of my first 2 courses & I’m still balancing A’s! I’ve missed writing Effie & soft Trevor so much. Sorry if this seems shorter than usual, just gotta get back in the swing! <3

* * *

“Guys, I think this is it.”

Franklin tore his eyes away from his phone screen to shoot his friend a cautious glance. Trevor twirled the cap of a beer between his fingertips and thoughtfully chewed his bottom lip.

“The fuck are you talking about?” Michael asked.

“This is it. This with Effie.”

“You gonna break up with her?” 

Trevor glared at Michael. “No, pork chop. I wanna marry her.”

Franklin choked on his swig of beer, sending the funky alcohol dripping from his now burning nostrils and down the front of his expensive, green basketball jersey. Michael just shook his head and gulped down the rest of his beer before chucking the empty bottle into the Alamo Sea before him. Franklin pulled his wet shirt over his head then splayed it out over the hood of his car to dry in the late evening humidity. The sun was setting on the other side of Mount Chiliad towering before them in all its glory. Crickets sang out around the trio.

“Your valuable input means the world to me, gents,” Trevor let out with a growl and a hint of sarcasm. He leaned back against the front of his truck and watched the surface of the sea calm after Michael’s beer bottle sunk below where their eyes couldn’t see.

“That’s deep, Trevor. Real deep. Like, rest of our lives deep,” Franklin said.

Michael rubbed his chin and finally looked at his friend. Sincerity had dulled the usual sheen in Trevor’s wild eyes. It made Michael’s stomach plummet.

“Killing someone for her might have seemed cathartic in a way, but do you really love this woman? Does she love you? What if she says no?”

A wicked smile played on Trevor’s lips as he pulled his phone out of his back pocket. Yesterday, they had made up. He told her what happened in the club, sparing her some of the gruesome details despite her insistence to know it all. A few minutes ago, she had texted him to ask when he would be home. He had been with the boys for several hours now. He would hit the freeway to Paleto Bay after maybe one more beer. He had to show the fellas something first. Pulling up the “ _ Ilove oyu _ ” text message with a trembling hand, he knew why he was nervous and he had a good idea of what his friends’ reactions would be. He flashed the two of them a text message dated a couple of days back. Michael and Franklin put their heads together to squint at the bright screen.

“That supposed to say ‘I love you’?” Michael asked. “She was clearly drunk when she sent that.”

“Your point?” Trevor demanded. 

“I’m kinda jealous,” Franklin said with a shrug. “I mean, Effie done seen you beat up, heard about the crazy shit we done pulled together, and still wanna be around you? I wish Tanisha had half the nuts she do.”

Trevor felt himself beaming and his chest swam with warmth. 

“So what’re you gonna do? Buy her a ring?” Michael asked. 

“Sure am.”

Franklin choked again, more beer staining his white tank top this time. “Fuck, man! What! When?”

“What about a nice bracelet? You don’t wanna scare her away,” Michael suggested. Part of him was quickly growing worried for the woman who had been by his best friend’s side for months now. “You don’t think you’re moving too fast, T?”

Trevor narrowed his eyes at Michael. “You only married Amanda cause you got her pregnant.”

“No. I loved her-“

“That why you cheat on her?” Franklin interrupted. Michael pointed a stern finger in his direction.

“You’re one to fucking talk, pal,” he hissed, veins beginning to bulge in his neck as his agitation grew. Trevor hadn’t been entirely wrong.

“Forget I said anything to the two of you about it,” Trevor muttered. “You’d ruin the surprise.”

He turned on his heel and started away from the sandy shore. 

“No. No, nah. I think it’s cool, T,” Franklin quickly spoke up. He noted the change in Trevor’s tone and didn’t want to be the one to send him back home to his woman, upset or rubbed the wrong way. Trevor paused and planted his hands on his hips, but kept his back turned to the two men. An inherent rage was bubbling in his throat. He had just wanted their support. Didn’t they want him to be happy?

Franklin elbowed Michael in the side and nodded toward their mutual friend. Michael let out a quiet sigh.

“Alright then. That settles it. A ring. Tomorrow, I’ll swing you by a few shops I know. Do you know her finger size?”

Trevor turned around with a light blush in his cheeks and a crooked grin on his lips. “Five and a half.”


	28. Chapter 28

Effie whistled a cheery tune as she pushed out of the maid's quarters of the hotel. The late afternoon sun was beginning to set below the seemingly never-ending horizon. She contemplated sitting on the beach and watching the bright orb disappear beneath the ocean. She could do that now. She had just clocked out and no one was after her anymore. To her surprise, Sandy was leaning against the hood of her two-door pickup parked right alongside her Mesa.

"You off for the night?" Effie asked before she resumed whistling. Sandy crossed her arms over her chest with a small chuckle.

"What's funny?" Effie asked. She leaned against the truck with her friend, nudging their shoulders together.

"You're in a really good mood," Sandy remarked. "Trevor came in to do inventory earlier today and he was whistling up a storm too. I don't think I ever heard him whistle before. Something up?"

Effie's grin fell. "Nothing's up. Why? What's wrong? Did he say something?"

"Oh he said something alright. Well, more-so the hickeys and scratches you left on his neck and arms said enough."

Effie's cheeks burned. Hidden from the public eye were bruises on her hips from her lover's nearly inescapable grasp and a few reddened bite marks on her thighs. The day before yesterday had been one hell of a blur. 

"Let's grab dinner. I want details."

"You're disgusting," Effie said, letting out a scoff followed by a shy laugh. "Come on."

* * *

"Girl, he's loved you since the day he met you...and yes, I know about that fateful day at the gas station," Sandy explained as she pushed her now empty plate to the side. "Just before it was time to lock up for the night, Trevor came marching into The Hen House like a bat outta Hell. Scared the fuck outta Blake. He thought he'd gotten an order wrong or something."

"What did he say?" Effie asked, eyes gleaming with curiosity. A bit of lettuce fell off the end of her fork and back into her salad, but she didn't even notice. She had never considered the absolute madman giving her so much as a second thought after bumping into her just before his gas station robbery. She could feel herself blushing before Sandy even explained what had happened. Part of her was embarrassed. He  _ had _ made a pass at her while in line, scolding her boyfriend's habits, and she had been absolutely repulsed. If she had known then what she knew now...

"So I asked him what's wrong. He comes 'round the bar, sticks his head right under one of the beer taps, and pulls the handle. After a few gulps, he stood up and..." Sandy cleared her throat, straightened her back, and broadened her shoulders.  _ "Why are all the most beautiful women always dating assholes? No offense, Sandy. _ "

Effie's palm flew to her forehead as she winced.

"But he talked about you sporadically for literal days, which worried me at first 'cause I'd never seen or heard about him with any women who weren't ladies of the night he tossed to the side afterward. I thought just maybe he was falling for one of them, not like there's anything wrong with that," she quickly added. "Then you came to the bar that night and you fit the description he had made me, Blake, and a few regulars listen to him pine over for days. Thick, dark hair over almond-shaped brown eyes. Legs for days. A little beauty mark just above the outside corner of your right eye."

"I didn't think he had that much of an eye for detail," I breathed, cheeks growing hotter than I ever imagined they could.

"When it comes to you, Effie? Trevor's all-in. When I realized who you were, I shot him a text saying he needed to stop by The Hen House. The look on his face as he approached the bar was all the confirmation I needed," Sandy explained, beaming proudly. The bell over the door across the small diner chimed as someone entered.

"If I had known you were the matchmaker in all this, I wouldn't have chalked so much of it to fate and San Andreas just being too damn small," Effie said with a small smile. She scooped away a few more bites of her salad while Sandy sipped a lemonade.

"I've never seen him so happy. You must have finally put it on him the other night. He seems like he would be an absolute animal in the bedroom," she said with a raised brow.

"If you must know, an animal would be an understatement," Effie claimed, recalling the night with utter contentment. As she started to speak again, a familiar face approached their booth. Sandy turned her head to the man and spoke first.

"Can I help you?"

"Swear I've been all up and down this coast looking for you," Michael said coolly as he looked down at her.

"And who are you?" Sandy insisted.

"She and I share a mutual friend. Can we have a few minutes?" Michael asked.

"It's alright," she sent Sandy a reassuring nod. 

"Alright," she shot Michael a look. "I gotta call to check on Blake anyway."

Sandy slid out of the booth then made her way toward the diner door. The bell chimed as she stepped outside. Effie blinked away from her friend as Michael slid into the seat directly across from her.

"How ya doing, Effie?" he asked. She raised an eyebrow. 

"Fine, Michael. What's brought you all the way out of the city to the bay?"

"I like to check on my friends. I can't check on you?" he proposed. She flashed a shallow, yet kind smile. Her boyfriend had told her all the stories and she had always carefully watched how the two interacted. There was always something there she knew she needed to watch out for.

"I'll get right to the point so as to not interrupt your girls' night. I know you're finally able to enjoy a little breathing room since your boyfriend took care of that biker. That's just it. Trevor killed someone for you. Cathartic, I know," he said, his voice suddenly oozing with sarcasm. "You might appreciate him keeping you safe, but you don't love Trevor."

Effie's heartrate seemed to double as her mouth quietly popped open. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"T told me and Frank about how you got drunk and you texted him-"

"I know what I texted him and I meant it. I mean, what the fuck are you  _ talking about _ ? Did you come out here for this? Who are you to try and tell me about what I do or don't feel? You don't know me." She was seething, face growing warm from anger instead of bashfulness as the feeling of the cushioned bench beneath her suddenly got uncomfortable. Her leg began to bounce beneath the table. 

"You don't know Trevor as well as you think you do."

"I'm gonna give you five seconds to get out of my booth," she warned, eyes boring into him. Those bright blue orbs looked right at her, unblinking before he finally shook his head and tugged at his suit's cufflinks. 

"Just do me a favor, alright? Once you get tired of him, don't treat Trevor the way my wife treats me."

"I was under the impression your wife treats you that way because you cheated on her first?" she suggested, slightly tilting her head to the side. He blinked and waved a hand.

"Alright, alright. Sheesh, you're just as bad as him," he complained. "That's beside the point. You'll never know peace with him as long as those bikers are around. You'll just live in fear. I just don't want to see you get hurt if Trevor gets hurt. He's like an animal when he's wounded - unpredictable. Lashes out at anything that moves funny."

"He wouldn't hurt Effie. He damn near worships the ground she walks on," Sandy interjected as she re-approached the booth. "Time's up."

Sandy met Effie's uncomfortable and livid gaze. 

"Alright, hotshot. Get outta here," Sandy grabbed the collar of his suit and gave him a nice jerk until he was standing. He readjusted his shirt and cut his eyes to the woman sitting in heated silence. He shook his head and strolled out of the restaurant. Effie and Sandy watched him until his black sedan left the parking lot and disappeared down the freeway. 

"Do I need to follow him and cut his tires?" 

Effie shook her head. The uneasy feeling she had felt months ago after her old roommate Rose had tried to worm her way into Trevor's head was settling in her gut. "You don't have to do that. Can we go? I need to talk to Trevor."

"Sure," Sandy left a couple of different green bills on the table then began to stack their plates. "Everything alright?"

"It will be."


	29. Chapter 29

"Don't wanna alarm anyone..." Trevor let out a loud sigh as he pushed through the front door. "But it appears that I've been shot."  
  
Effie's eyes barely shifted away from the television. She had been glued to the couch cushion for what felt like an eternity, determined not to blow up his cell phone but trying ever so patiently to wait for his return home. Time felt as though it had inched by, but she found barely an hour had passed once she finally checked the clock on the wall. Her eyes wandered further then landed on the bright red splotch of blood on the left shoulder of her boyfriend's t-shirt. Without so much as a second thought, she pushed to her feet and silently beckoned for him to follow her to the bathroom. The front door slammed shut, making her jump slightly just before he entered the small room behind her.   
  
"Eff?" Trevor called. He leaned this way and that, fighting to try and meet her evading gaze. Her head was tucked and her lips were tight. Something was wrong, but it was not the bullet graze through his shoulder.   
  
"Yeah?" she quietly answered. She carefully rolled up the sleeve of his shirt, revealing a gnarly gash running along the skin above the tattoo on his arm. Her gaze danced over the intricate ink in his tanned skin. It served as a sore reminder to him of his best friend's foul decision and for Effie, it reminded her of why she was in a bad mood in the first place - her and Sandy's confrontation with Michael in the diner. She grimaced and began to clean his wound. Trevor swallowed hard, his eyes still frantically searching for hers. Had he done something?  
  
"Swear it wasn't my fault this time," he quietly said, gesturing to the blood. "Bumped into a guy havin' a bad day at the club. Security tossed him out, but not till after he put up a fight."  
  
"Fights are with fists, not guns," she muttered. As she taped a folded pad of gauze onto the wound, Trevor gently gripped her chin between his thumb and pointer finger. Effie didn't resist the pull as he lifted her face to find her gaze. The dull coat lingering in her brown irises made his heart sink.  
  
"S'the matter?" he murmured. She finally let out a deep breath.  
  
"It's nothing. Never mind. I don't want you to be upset."  
  
"Spill, sweet cheeks..." he quietly warned. "Who do I have to tear apart?"  
  
"Michael."  
  
His thick eyebrows skyrocketed. "Mic-Michael? What happened? He touch you?"   
  
"No. No, Trev," she quickly shook her head and shoved him back down onto the lid of the toilet seat as he pushed to his feet. "He didn't touch me. He's just a fucking idiot."  
  
"Well, I knew that already. He musta really fucked up to get you cursin'," he claimed. His hand on her waist held her close. She was very obviously weighing her words carefully before she spoke.  
  
"I was at the diner with Sandy when he showed up. He says I don't know you as well as I think I do and that I should run for the hills. Sound familiar?" Her eyes briefly flashed with anger and agitation. Trevor recalled her old roommate trying to have the same conversation with him. Even as rational as she could be, he could imagine the mental warfare his girlfriend was having with herself. And all because of him and his loud-mouth, prick of a so-called best friend.  
  
"I told Mikey we said I love you to each other and meant it. He's just jealous, sweet cheeks," Trevor let out in an attempt to keep her cool. She rolled her eyes and threw up her hands.  
  
"Why the hell is he such a...bully? I see the way he talks to you sometimes. Like you're a fucking kid, like he knows everything," she scoffed. "He's just as lost as the rest of us. He just hides it beneath tailored designer suits."  
  
"I got you. You got me. Let him be lost and kick rocks. Amiright?" Trevor asked the woman pouting in front of him, but he was also trying to give himself a pep talk. He wanted to speed all the way back to Los Santos, kick in that stupid mosaic front door of that stupid mansion, and deck Michael's lights out. He found himself almost wishing he had had the guts to pull the trigger in North Yankton.  
  
"Hey?" Effie repeated, pulling Trevor from his thoughts as she stroked just beneath his tired eyes with a soft, neatly manicured thumb. "You hear me? Fuck him. Say it with me."  
  
"Fuck him," Trevor grumbled before a small smile tugged at the side of his mouth. "Don't think about Mike. He's scared of me is all."  
  
She shook her head and fought the urge she had to grit her teeth together. "I just hate having to listen to people like Rose and Michael talk about you like you're an animal. An-And I see the way people trip over themselves to move out of the way when they see us just grocery shopping together. So you're a criminal, a bank robber, a weapons dealer, a-a drug dealer..." She swallowed hard, composing herself before she spoke again. "But I'm not fuckin' scared of you like them. You're such a softie. You're smart, handy, and protective. Most of the time, you don't let anything or anyone stop you and I admire you for that. I love how safe I feel around you, so fuck him and fuck them."  
  
All of the blood drained from Trevor's face and pooled at the bottom of his gut as unfamiliar nausea filled his stomach. He couldn't find the words to say. This wasn't a drunk text message or a hungover morning after. She was sober and she had said it all straight to his face. He slowly wrapped her in a warm hug, resting the side of his face against her stomach. Her hands slid to the back of his neck and she bent just enough to kiss the top of his head. All the agitation and anger she had been feeling since the diner disappeared with his touch. Trevor felt the brief urge to cry but he swallowed it down, then cleared his throat.  
  
"Thank you," he muttered against the fabric of her shirt.  
  
"For what?" she asked.  
  
"For not disappearin' on me."  
  
"I don't get to disappear on you and you don't get to disappear on me, Trevor Philips," she said before letting out a laugh. He quietly chuckled at the memory. The first time she had shouted that to him from the other side of his screen door, he knew he was in for one hell of a ride. He didn't plan on taking off his seatbelt any time soon.


	30. Chapter 30

Trevor was pleasantly surprised to see the white Mesa parked along the curb outside their home just before four in the evening. Effie had been working longer shifts lately. The two were planning a small vacation and she insisted they needed the money, despite Trevor saying he could cover it all with no problem. In fact, the last time the two had even discussed what was still in his bank account, he had said something about being just under having “two commas in that bad boy”. The declaration didn’t even make Effie blink twice. It was another reason why he loved her. He could count on two hands the women he once knew who would have taken full advantage of him after he and the boys took the Union Depository. Instead, he had Effie - a hotel housekeeper who would rather put her $14.50 an hour to use over his income. He would just book whatever she suggested without her knowledge and wire some change to her account when she wanted to pout about it.

“You’re home early. You musta missed me,” Trevor claimed as he unlocked the door and pushed into the home. He found Effie curled into a ball on the couch. She didn’t move as he kicked off his boots before sitting on the opposite end of the couch from where she lay. Her eyes were staring at the television but she wasn’t focused on what was playing on the screen. His brow creased in concern. Any other time, she would demand he sit down where she could climb into his lap and pepper his warm face with kisses.

“Effie?” he called. He plopped down on the couch then pulled her exposed feet into his lap and started to knead her soles beneath his thumbs. She finally seemed to give way beneath his touch.

“I fucked up,” she quietly let out. Trevor’s heart immediately leaped into his throat but he swallowed it back down. Before he could ask what had happened, she swung her legs out of his lap and sat upright beside him. She swayed slightly and pressed both of her palms into her eyes before letting out a frustrated groan.

“What’s the matter? Talk to me,” he coaxed. His mind ran wild with thoughts of lies or infidelity and he just wanted her to shut it up.

“I was cleaning a recently vacated room. Everything was fine until I got to the bathroom...” she heavily sighed. “The tenants had left a bit of their party on the sink.”

He blinked in disbelief then slowly nodded. “And by party, you mean...”

She finally looked him in the face and his heart plummeted. Her eyes glistened with tears.

“Cocaine,” she answered before her body gave way to quiet sobs.

“Did you touch it?” Trevor asked. He tried hiding the accusatory tone in his voice but she caught it anyway. She pulled away from him with cheeks damp before she wiped them dry with the back of her hand.

“Of course I didn’t! I couldn’t even finish the room. I called Ashley to cover the rest of my shift and I got away from that place as fast as I fucking could!”

“Alright, alright. I believe you. I just had to make sure.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his torso where she finally relaxed. He didn’t speak until the sobs stopped racking her body. She was purposefully drawing in deep breaths now.

“I’m proud of you,” he said as he peppered her scalp with soft kisses.

“It was just sitting there and I felt so tempted. I knew better but I still felt it,” she complained.

“But you didn’t give in,” he added.

"I wanted to though. I don't know why I wanted to. It's been years. I feel like shit for considering it for even a second."

"You didn't give in," he repeated, gently grabbing her chin and making her look him in his eyes. He carefully studied her worried expression. Her pupils weren't blown. He could feel her soft pulse beneath his fingers. Her complexion was even.

"What if I do give in one day?"

His eyebrows knit together. "Where would you even get it?"

Her eyes darted away from his and she carefully climbed out of his lap to pace the room. Trevor's tongue darted out to wet his lips and he slowly nodded.

"I won't sell anything anymore," he said. "If that's what yer worried about."

"No! No, that's... I'm not saying that. I just-"

"Me and you are too close. People around here are weird. You have access to everything. I'll just..." his eyes scanned the room as he fought to avoid her determined pacing. It was making him anxious. "Ron and Chef will run the kitchen. I'll run the guns and freight. End of discussion."

"Trevor, that's your livelihood."

"You're my livelihood. I live offa residual income from my businesses and spend money on jackshit. I just cleaned up one mess we got in. I don't wanna hafta tear up anyone or anything else," he explained. Effie ran her fingers through her hair then let out a sigh.

"I shouldn't have told you. I've already changed you too much."

His eyes narrowed in confusion. "Changed me?"

"You quit meth 'cause of me. Now you're gonna stop selling that and coke cause of me? You were doing fine before I came along."

The tips of his ears burned pink and he lowered his gaze. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and holding his face in his hands. He wasn't "fine" before her. How could she think that?

"I still do meth," he muttered into his palms. Her pacing finally stopped. He lowered his hands and turned his tired eyes up to the woman, anxiously awaiting the barrage of expletives and insults she would hurl his way. Only her lingering silence was more terrifying than any words she could have put together.

"Only when you're not around or I know I won't see you and not as much, ca-cause all I remember is your-your face..." Trevor hissed through his teeth as he pulled the words from the lump growing in his chest. "All I remember is your face when I dragged Brett into you and Rose's house. Your body language. Your everythin' toward me. It's changed so much since I stopped cold turkey, but I was havin' problems. Withdrawals hurt, Effie. You know that."

"When was the last time?" she quietly asked. It was a question he had been dreading. It was too recent.

"The day that junkie showed up here after I dropped you off with Sandy and went lookin' for that piece of shit biker. I stopped by Ron's and I just..." Trevor mimicked an explosion with his hands over his head. He felt like he needed to keep talking. "But I don't want to, not as much anyway."

"That's one step in the right direction," she let out, tone monotonous and flat. It felt like a ton of bricks had been placed on Trevor's head.

"You're mad," he stated. She shook her head and sat on the edge of the red recliner across the living room from the couch. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her eyes were on the wooden floorboards.

"I'm not mad. I'm scared."

"Of me?"

"God, no," she finally relaxed her arms. "I just haven't been able to tell and I don't know how to feel about it. Were you ever high when we had sex?"

"Fuck no. I respect you more than that, Eff. Come on," he complained with a scoff. It was his turn to push to his feet. "Don't crucify me. You know what that feels like."

"I'm not crucifying you either. Just tell me, okay? Tell me when you're gonna get high. Can you do that?"

His rough hands tugged at his thinning hair. He couldn't imagine the humiliation of telling her when he was sticking a glass tube to the lips she wanted to kiss. He could lie. That thought made him grimace. A little white lie, maybe. Only once in a while. Only when he knew she would be able to tell, right?

"I can do that," he quietly obliged.

"Can you do something else for me?" she asked.

"Anything," he let out in a quick breath.

"Be careful."

"Have you met me?"

"Unfortunately," she answered and the word made his heart sink until he caught a barely noticeable smile on her lips.


End file.
